


Fox on the Run

by fancywaffles



Series: Outfoxed [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Childhood Friends, First Love, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masks, Minor Glenn Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, Those Who Slither in the Dark Do Not Exist (Fire Emblem), Two Person Love Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancywaffles/pseuds/fancywaffles
Summary: Felix meets a mysterious man at a masquerade that he can't stop thinking about and the young Gautier heir is set to return from over a decade in Sreng, as part of a peace treaty with Gautier and Faerghus. Two things that Felix doesn't realize are related.(or, a love triangle where sylvain is two of the people but he's the only one who knows it)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Outfoxed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941637
Comments: 192
Kudos: 561





	1. What does the fox say?

**Author's Note:**

> This is mego's fault and once again twitter for enabling me. (I'm waffle_fancy if you would like to do the same).
> 
> This is FE3H universe, but TWISTD isn't in it (they got real drunk and decided to move to Morfis), so _everyone_ is alive. It's set a year after Felix and co went to the Academy. Sylvain has been in Sreng since he was 9 and Felix was 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix has an encounter at a masquerade and then also meets with an old friend he can't remember.
> 
> (or, how to make out with strangers who are actually people you know)

It was the third person in the last fifteen minutes that wasn’t getting the hint who asked him to dance. Felix was ready to ignore his explicit instructions 'not to cause a scene' and tell them off, but when he turned around it wasn’t a dopey dignitary or falsely coquettish maiden... it was a taller man wearing a mask. Between the wolfish smile and the hair, the mask made him look a little like he was emulating a fox. Felix had no idea why he said yes, but suddenly he was actually moving around the pointless ball filled with nobles pretending no one knew exactly who they were under those flimsy disguises, with someone he _didn’t_ actually know. 

"Dancing that painful?" the stranger asked, with a smirk like he assumed he’d know the answer. He didn’t even wait and tried to answer himself. "Or is that the mask?"

Felix frowned at him. "Maybe if you were better at this I would have a better expression."

Surprising him, the stranger laughed, and his hand on Felix's back slid a little lower to pull him closer then he started to get _fancy_ with the movements. It was basically a challenge (and Felix had been dying of boredom) so he accepted the challenge, even if it was a ridiculous one. They spun around in canted movements that reminded Felix of footwork in training and by the time the second song finished, Felix felt his breathing pick up and might have (if not for refusing to) admitted he was having fun. 

The stranger got him a drink and then Felix found himself walking outside into the bracing fresh air. He noticed that the stranger didn’t seem to be affected by the Faerghus chill, but Felix was still sure that if the man in the fox mask was one of the nobles cavorting themselves around here, he'd know him. "Who are you?" he asked

"It's a masquerade, Felix, you're not supposed to know identities," he said.

"You just said my name," Felix replied, with a cocked eyebrow.

The stranger paused and there was something tight about the way he smiled. "It's a cat name. Matches the mask."

"I'm not a..." Felix ripped his mask off to look at it for the first time all night and then promised to murder Annette for picking it out. She had told him he was a predator. "That's still too good of a guess," Felix said, too irritated to put the mask back on. “You clearly know who I am so who are you?”

The stranger shrugged. "Why don't you guess?"

Felix frowned and looked the stranger up and down. The man was tall, too adaptable to the cold, and in too good of shape to be from anywhere _other_ than Faerghus. If he were any of the nobles, even the minor lords, Felix was sure he would have noticed him before. He'd been forced to socialize with every noble across the country since he was old enough to remember. He wasn’t sure if it was a failed attempt at teaching him diplomacy (which he knew, but preferred ignoring because it was stupid) or casting lines to see if anyone was worth the second son of Fraldarius. Part of Felix wished that he'd just been engaged since he was born so he didn't have to deal with this shit, but then that made him think about being married to Ingrid and he made a face.

"Not a good guess then?" the stranger asked, with a laugh.

His laugh was too easy, casual. There was no way Felix wouldn't have remembered hearing it before. "You're a commoner who snuck in," he guessed.

There was a pause and a stiffness to the stranger's posture that made Felix certain he was right. "Not much of a point of a mask if everyone is everyone you already knew, huh?"

"Exactly," Felix said, satisfied that he figured it out. "What's your name?" he asked. 

The stranger pointed up to his mask and grinned. "Fox."

Felix rolled his eyes. "Right. Fine, whatever, don't tell me."

"I can call you Cat or Kitty if that’ll make you feel better,” he offered with a disarming grin.

Felix wanted to kick him. “No.” He scratched his nose where the mask had been rubbing wrong and then stubbornly put it back on. If “Fox” was going to be mysterious then he didn’t get to look at Felix’s full face either. 

“Okay, Kitten,” the stranger said, with a pleased smile. Felix felt the overwhelming urge to at least smack him in the arm for that, but drew his hand back down. Punching a commoner was generally frowned upon.

Felix took a sip of his drink instead and put the thought of doing it into his glare. It must not have been as effective with the mask back on, because the stranger’s mouth twisted into a different kind of smile. 

“This place is strange,” Fox said, lifting his head to look up at the night sky. “I thought it’d be different.”

“Like what?” Felix asked.

Fox shrugged with his hands. “I don’t know, like wrestling pits in the middle of an ice field?”

Felix snorted. “That sounds more interesting than a masquerade.”

The stranger nudged Felix’s shoulder with his own. He was weirdly warm considering, but maybe it was the autumn air getting to Felix. “I wasn’t complaining.”

“Yeah well.” Now Felix felt warm, he readjusted his arms in front of him and sighed, realizing they probably should go back inside.

Then, “You want to take a walk?” Fox suggested.

Felix should have said no. He didn't know this person and he was supposed to be socializing, but if anyone asked he could say he was. It wasn’t like there weren’t dark haired _cats_ dancing inside. He set his drink down, nodded, and followed as Fox practically skipped down the staircase leading into the gardens. He was pretty spritely for his build and height. Felix wondered what he did for a trade. 

The gardens were decorated purposefully for strolling through at night and Felix could see a few couples who were wearing less than their masks, doing a bad job at hiding in the bushes and ruffling the leaves with their encounters. He rolled his eyes again. It wasn’t like there weren’t closets or rooms where they could do that. 

“So where are you from?” Felix asked, and added, “Fox,” sarcastically. 

The stranger’s face was mostly covered, but he had a really disarming grin. Felix felt his stomach twist when he saw it again. It seemed brighter than even the hanging candles (a fire hazard in a drier season) in the gardens.

“North,” he said, without elaborating, and then before Felix could call him on it, added, “It’s different from here. Less… organized?”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Felix said, with another snort.

He practically felt the eyes he couldn’t see well through the mask staring at him. “Not a fan of Faerghus?”

“It’s fine,” Felix said. It wasn’t like he wanted to live in the Alliance or the Empire.

“I’m not going to report you to the king for treason if you suggest otherwise,” Fox offered, with another stupidly charming grin.

If Felix hadn’t been arrested for treason by accidentally (not that anyone believed him) stabbing Dimitri in the leg after he broke Felix’s _brand new_ Zoltan sword (that, everyone believed was an accident), he doubted bitching about Faerghus was going to do much. Still…

“This shit is stupid,” Felix said, gesturing back towards the dance and then with a grunt in front of them to the trying-too-hard gardens. “It isn’t how normal people live. It’s a waste of time and money.” 

“Huh, not a perspective I expected to hear from a noble,” Fox said, sounding genuinely surprised. Felix wondered how many nobles he talked to, although Felix doubted anyone but maybe Dimitri shared his opinion. 

“This is at least the third thing like this I’ve been forced to attend this _month_ ,” Felix said. Not to mention the trip to Gautier his father was forcing him to attend next week. 

“So the best one yet?” Fox asked and something about the way he said it made Felix fight off a smile, while his stomach tangled into knots.

Felix turned away, suddenly embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was fine.”

“You just said Faerghus was fine and you sound like you want to light it on fire,” Fox countered. His voice was low and had a persuasive husk to it. “Let me know what to do to make it better than fine.”

It was completely inane to turn around and stare up at him. Talking to someone he didn’t know and who wasn’t making some ill-fated attempt at wriggling into the second highest ranking noble family was refreshing. The air was cold and something about them both wearing masks made Felix feel brave (and stupid).

So he said, “Kiss me.”

There was a pause. Felix was going to crawl into a hole and die. Then the stranger let out a short exhalation of air and bent forward. It was barely a kiss (not that Felix had a lot of experience), just brushing his lips against Felix’s before he pulled back again.

Felix felt flushed, embarrassed, and maybe even _pitied_ , so he said, “That's a poor showing if you’re trying to _improve_ the night.”

Fox was staring at him, but Felix couldn’t see enough of his face to know what his expression looked like. He couldn’t guess either since his mouth was a straight line. The hole to crawl into was calling to Felix again but then the straight line of Fox’s mouth twisted and he finally said, “You’re fucking trouble, you know that?” Then he grabbed the back of Felix’s neck and dragged him forwards into a crushing kiss.

Felix had to hold onto the seam of the stranger’s jacket to keep himself steady beneath the pressure of it as he pushed up onto his toes to try and counter Fox's mouth with his own. Felix almost lost his balance when Fox’s tongue slipped into his mouth, but just like when they were dancing, the warm hand drew down his back and pulled him in with more control.

* * *

Felix thought about that kiss all week. (And the subsequent other activities that made him less judgmental about the couples making out in the bushes.) He wondered if that was how Fox kissed everyone or if there was something dreadfully, painfully, ridiculous about the entire night that made it like one of those books Bernadetta used to hide. 

Felix didn’t believe in fairy tales or destiny, but that didn’t stop him from remembering the faint smell of pine-needles and the feel of Fox's lips, tasting faintly like the watered down wine they were serving. 

It was pointless to obsess over it. He didn’t get Fox’s real name or see his face so it was unlikely he’d ever see him again… unless Fox reached out, since _he_ at least knew who Felix was. He felt nauseated the entire ride to Gautier thinking and overthinking about it.

His mother must have noticed when they stopped for the horses to rest, because she annoyingly leaned forward in her seat, tipped his head back, and pressed her hand to his forehead. “You don’t have a fever, so I’m afraid you’re still going to Gautier.”

“I didn't say I wasn’t,” Felix said, peevishly. “It’d be too late now unless I stole a horse off the carriage and rode back.” Tempting as a prospect, but not worth the headache of getting lectured afterwards about family responsibilities. 

“What’s the sour face for then?” his mother asked.

“It’s my face,” Felix replied, and looked away from her before she made him laugh.

“You should be excited,” she said, glancing sideways out of the carriage as the horses picked up again. “You used to get along so well as children.”

“We’re only going, because the royal house is too busy,” Felix pointed out. “Not because of some baby friendship.”

“Baby friendship,” his mother said, her mouth twisting into one of those teasing smiles he saw on Glenn’s face all the time right before he needled him. 

“You know what I mean,” Felix said, stiffly. 

His mother smiled and glanced out of the carriage again. It was starting to snow, but they were barely flurries. “I am only saying to not expect it to be as torturous as visits usually are with the Gautiers.”

Felix stared at her. “You’re not supposed to say that.”

“I’m not supposed to do a lot of things,” she countered and this time her expression was conspiratorial. When he snorted, she continued, “You know your father means well. We want you to have a social life beyond your cousin and the crown prince.”

“I made friends at the Academy,” Felix said.

“Friend,” his mother countered, and then beamed. “I do adore Annette.” 

Felix crossed his arms over his chest and remembered he needed to get her back for the mask thing. Or just talk to her, if she didn’t get incredibly goofy about it. It wasn’t like he could talk to Dimitri about it (or that Dimitri would have _time_ to talk about it since his father had been increasing his duties more and more since he came of age). How was Felix supposed to even start explaining? He met a nameless commoner and they made out and now he was obsessing over it? He probably shouldn't talk to _anyone_ about it. 

Felix missed hitting things with swords. Was it that bad to wish for another invasion so he’d have something else to focus on?

It sounded more interesting than listening to Margrave Gautier talk for hours. 

When they arrived, Felix attempted to be polite for his mother’s sake. He greeted the Margrave and Margravine and waited to be introduced to the reason they were dragged up here. 

The Margrave cleared his throat and a tall, red-haired person that wasn’t the recently disinherited Miklan Gautier, came forward. “Hanna, Felix, this is Sylvain.”

Sylvain was staring at Felix in a way that was making him uncomfortable, but it was cut off as Sylvain was taken by surprise by the speed in which Felix’s mother came at his side and squeezed him, practically off the ground. “You are so tall! You sprang up like a weed in Sreng.”

“I don’t know if where I was had much to do with it,” Sylvain said, awkwardly patting Felix’s mother on the back before she let go. 

She waved him off and sighed. “Marcel, can we finish the re-introductions with tea or should I wait for a polite invitation as if it isn’t obviously already being prepared?”

The Margrave’s mouth twisted and the Margravine covered a smile with the back of her hand. 

“Of course,” the Margrave said. 

They followed him into the manor. Felix kept turning to look back when he felt eyes on him, but Sylvain seemed to be looking in another direction every time he did it.

The tea was fine, even if most of it was too sickly sweet for Felix’s liking, but the part where Felix had to listen to his mother talking to the Gautiers was excruciating. He missed when he was young enough to duck outside during moments like these and play with Glenn and some of the servant’s children.

Felix looked for Sylvain again, wondering if he was still staring, but he seemed to have stopped. The Gautier heir was slumped back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling, half listening to the Margrave talk about Sreng politics and the current establishment in terms of a peace treaty. He didn't look remotely interested even though it was _his_ territory and the place he'd lived for over a decade they were talking about. (If they’d been talking about Fraldarius, Felix would’ve paid more attention.) Felix's parents both had insisted that they'd met before, but Felix couldn't remember it and all he had to go off was Margrave Gautier and Miklan, neither of whom he liked very much.

“Sylvain,” the Margravine said, tentatively, smiling as Sylvain dropped his head to look at her. “Why don’t you and Felix catch up? You can show him the Srengi sculptures you brought?”

“Sure,” Sylvain said, easily. He pushed himself off the wall and Felix (after his mother hit him in the knee) stood up to follow him. Sylvain stretched when he walked, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Interested in art, Felix?”

“Not really,” Felix said. 

“Me neither,” Sylvain agreed too smoothly. He glanced over at him. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Not really,” Felix said, again, uncomfortable. He really didn’t like the way Sylvain was looking at him. “My parents said we were playmates or something.”

“Hm,” Sylvain said. He dropped his hands from behind his head and frowned, before taking a step towards Felix and getting way too far into his personal space. 

“What are you doing?” 

Sylvain backed Felix practically into the wall and rested a palm against it right by his head and leaned in close enough that Felix could smell the tea on his breath. “You seriously don’t remember me?”

“Do you really want to get your nose punched as your first return to Fódlan experience?” Felix snapped, feeling caged in by his height and the fact that Felix knew from _experience_ that overtures in Felix’s direction met with violence meant Felix was the one who got yelled at.

“Maybe,” Sylvain said with a shrug, before his other hand rested on the wall on Felix’s other side, trapping Felix between, “Is that what Fódlaners are into now?”

“Back off,” Felix said. He hated fucking assholes who were too used to everyone doing what they wanted when they wanted it, that they didn’t know how to hear someone say no. “I’m not interested.”

“You don’t know that,” Sylvain said, with a self-assured grin that Felix really wanted to punch. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“No,” Felix snapped. “I’m here because you weren’t important enough for the royal family or my father to cancel their plans.”

For some reason that made Sylvain smile even wider. Felix didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but he did know that Sylvain was pressing in even closer and Felix no longer gave a shit about how much trouble he was going to be in as he brought his knee up into Sylvain’s crotch. 

Sylvain let out a strangled noise of pain and folded over, allowing Felix to move away from the wall and away from him. “Felix!” Sylvain called when Felix was halfway down the hall, “Come on, wait!” 

“Fuck you,” Felix said, over his shoulder and kept walking. Maybe he _would_ steal a horse and go home. He didn’t give a shit if they were supposed to have strong family ties or that he and Sylvain used to run around together when they were little. That was then and this was now.

And now, all Felix knew was that Sylvain Gautier was a prick. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moments after the boys leave, taking a sip of her tea, hanna fraldarius asks if sylvain and felix hit it off again should they discuss potential territory mergers or should she be concerned about whether or not the margrave still has outdated ideas about popping out heirs 
> 
> the margrave prefers when rodrigue visits
> 
> (PLEASE VIEW THE [AMAZING ART](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1284343332127170562) MEGO MADE of the mask scene!! )


	2. Like an angel in disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix, despite his best efforts, is unable to escape being forced to socialize with Sylvain Gautier, or stop thinking about the mysterious Fox.
> 
> (or, i enjoy tormenting felix far too much)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glenn is 22 in this and on a brief sojourn to help with the Galatea territory before he goes back to knightly things. 
> 
> Also Felix's opinions on characters are not the authors, nor are they necessarily accurate. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kind comments so far! This has uprooted my progress on my larger fic [Fell Star, Ashen Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23015968/chapters/55032958) and most of my life. I can only go where the hyper fixation takes me. No brain only Sylvix.

Glenn flopped down onto the armrest of the chair Felix was sitting at and yanked the book out of his hands. Felix looked up at his old brother, hoping every annoyance showed on his face.

“What,” Glenn started and then raised his eyebrows for emphasis, “did you _do_?”

Felix crossed his arms over his chest and sunk into his seat. “I kneed Sylvain Gautier in the dick.”

Glenn, predictably, couldn’t stop laughing. Finally, Glenn wheezed and slapped down Felix’s book (which now he’d lost the page on) on his thigh. “You know he just got back from basically a war hostage situation right? He comes back to Faerghus and the first thing that happens is his best kiddie friend knees him?”

“I don’t even remember him,” Felix said, peevishly.

Glenn chuckled. “I was wondering why Mom was so pissed when I got here.” He patted Felix on the shoulder with his book. “Don’t worry, I shoved Bebe at her. Grandbaby helps with any sour mood.”

“Make sure the old man gets to hold her too then,” Felix grunted. If he had to hear another word about keeping tempered moods in situations being the duty of a noble as much as a shield was to a sword he was going to jump out the window.

“So what did _he_ do?” Glenn asked, a little more seriously.

Felix frowned. “Nothing.”

“Felix.”

Felix sighed. “He was pushy. So I pushed back.”

Glenn’s mouth twisted in annoyance, but Felix assumed it wasn’t directed at him when he dropped the book back in his lap and ruffled his hair. “If you kicked him hard enough, they’re not going to have that Gautier heir problem for much longer.”

Felix was desperate for a subject change. “Why are you here?”

He expected a stupid response, like ‘why do you want to know’ or ‘because we rode here’ but instead Glenn raked a hand through his curls and said, “Ingrid’s been kinda… off lately. I thought maybe Mom might know what’s up.”

“Off?”

“Yeah, bored, moody, doesn’t eat as much.”

The last one was a warning sign when it came to Ingrid. “You sure it's not that _you_ wanted to get away because you hate her brothers?”

“I _hate_ her brothers,” Glenn agreed. “But no, that’s an added bonus.” He let out a whistling breath. “Might end up seeing a lot more of them though. I don’t think the whole Galatea-Fraldarius union was that well thought out, our territories are too fucking big.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, it might make more sense to stay in Galatea and have a different Fraldarius at home,” Glenn said, raising his eyebrows. “Which means maybe less kicking potential matches.”

Felix curled his lip at the idea. He didn’t want to be Duke anymore than he wanted to be in the same room with a Gautier again. “I don’t kick all of them.”

“My brother, the romantic,” Glenn said, airily while holding his chest. He was still sprawled on the armrest so Felix shoved him off.

“I should be relieved neither of you have black eyes yet,” came Ingrid’s voice from behind them. When Felix turned over his shoulder to look at her, she did look tired.

“You know he kicked Sylvain Gautier in the delicates?” Glenn said from the floor.

Ingrid’s eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“Can we stop talking about this?” Felix asked. He’d had to listen to it enough already.

Glenn, as always, ignored him. He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off pillows on a chair (as if that did anything) for Ingrid to sit. She gave Glenn a wan smile and took the seat and then he took the armrest on her chair. “Apparently Gautier was getting handsy.”

“I didn’t say that,” Felix said.

Ingrid sighed. “So I guess he hasn’t grown out of _that_.” She shook her head and looked up at Glenn. “You know he tried to flirt with my sweet Granny?”

“He was ten,” Glenn said. “Not everyone was twenty-five when they were seven, Ingrid.”

“Nine,” she corrected. “He left when he was nine.”

Felix wanted to ask how Ingrid remembered that, but then his mother entered the room, her heeled boots clicking against the small bit of floor that wasn’t covered in a rug. “I talked to Estrel and your rooms are all set up,” Felix’s mother said.

Ingrid looked uncomfortable. “I really don’t want to be an imposition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ingrid,” his mother said. “It’s perfectly normal to feel that way after a baby, but it’s not wise to be left alone to it and Goddess knows your husband is not going to understand.”

“Did I get downgraded from son to Ingrid’s husband?” Glenn asked.

“Father of my grandchild,” his mother offered. At Glenn’s twisted mouth she continued, but turned towards Felix before she said, “We’re having the Gautiers for dinner.”

“What? Why?” Felix asked, turning completely in his chair, only to see it get worse when his father walked in.

The old man was bouncing Bebe in his arms, but still managed to have the same droning intonation and expression like he always did when he was saying something pointless. “Because the Gautiers are some of our oldest friends and allies.” He frowned like he was going to start in again in front of everyone. “Sylvain is being formally reintroduced to society, so you’re going to escort him to the capital tomorrow.”

This was complete horseshit. “He doesn’t need to be escorted, he’s an adult.”

“You were going anyway,” his mother said, as a consolation.

Felix crossed his arms over his chest and sunk down on the chair again. He barely got to spend time with Dimitri lately and now it was going to be taken up with formal social visits with the Gautier heir. Not to mention it meant taking a carriage instead of a horse, which would add at least an hour onto the trip.

“I want everyone on their best behaviors at dinner tonight,” his old man said. The only consolation was that he at least gave a stern look to Glenn before focusing in on Felix.

* * *

“Culture shock,” the Margravine said, in an apologetic tone over appetizers, “Sreng people are more… forthright in their affections. I hope you know he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Of course,” Felix’s father said, nodding. “A misunderstanding. It must be a steep learning curve coming right back into Fódlan like this, Sylvain.”

Sylvain nodded with a clearly forced smile. At least he wasn’t staring at Felix anymore.

“Let’s put that unpleasantness behind us,” the Margrave said. There was a murmur of agreement among their parents before dinner conversation returned to normal boring fare and Felix could eat in mostly peace until someone bothered him.

It was Sylvain’s voice drew his attention again. “Ah yeah, when I explained that to the cl—Srengi they kept saying it meant we were engaged.”

The Margrave snorted like it was funny. “They are a strange people.” 

“In their defense it does sound a little like that,” Glenn said and Felix noticed Sylvain’s mouth twitched.

“What sounds a little like that?” Felix asked, without meaning to. He was trying to keep the attention off of him not make it clear he hadn’t been paying any attention himself.

Now Sylvain was staring at him again, so was the whole table. He shoved a piece of meat in his mouth and wished he could’ve gotten out of this like Ingrid did.

“The promise,” Sylvain said, like Felix knew what he was talking about. “When we were kids about sticking together until we die together?”

Felix had no idea how to respond to that and Glenn, in what he probably thought was an attempt at saving him said, “Felix was always an emotional kid.”

Sylvain’s mouth turned up in the approximation of a smile. “Yeah. I remember.”

Felix stabbed the next piece of meat on his plate, while they continued to talk about him like he wasn’t sitting right here.

“Were you here when Felix ran away from home?” Glenn asked.

“Glenn,” their father said, strangely serious for Host Rodrigue’s usual tone, “don’t bring that up at dinner.”

“It’s another charming childhood anecdote,” Glenn said.

“It most certainly is not,” their father said.

“He didn’t die,” Glenn said.

Their mother put her utensils down. “He almost did.” She shook her head. “Walking off in the middle of the night with barely a coat on in the freezing chill. It still gives me nightmares,” she looked directly at Felix like he’d been the one to bring it up, “you were sick for weeks.”

“Sylvain did that,” the Margrave said. “Wandered off into a snow drift, almost caught hypothermia.”

“Children fry your nerves,” their father said, still looking at Glenn who responded with a smile.

“He was five,” the Margravine said, shaking her head and giving Felix the same expression that his mother had given him.

“Then he didn’t know what he was doing,” Felix said, not sure why he was defending the asshole, except that the asshole was getting blamed for things he couldn’t remember too. “Do you remember everything from when you were five?”

“Felix,” his father said as a warning.

“I’d probably be okay now,” Sylvain said, cheerfully. “Living in the cold of Sreng, I could probably walk around naked in the middle of winter in Gautier and be fine.”

“Don’t,” the Margrave said.

Sylvain shrugged and grinned, before going back to his food. He paused with his fork in the air. “Why did you run away though?”

Felix realized he was talking to him. “I don’t know. I was a kid.”

“Oh,” Felix’s mother said. “I remember now, you were so upset that you didn’t get to say goodbye. You were too young to really understand it when we tried explaining…I don’t know if you ran off to find a letter carrier or were trying to walk to Sreng with how far you got.”

“Either way,” his father said, “it proves you two _were_ close friends growing up.”

Felix had no idea how to respond to that and could feel Sylvain’s eyes on him again, but when he looked, Sylvain was spinning a fork in his fingers. Felix frowned and looked away again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

* * *

The carriage ride was hell. Sylvain immediately tried to sit next to him (which Felix didn’t even do with his _mother_ ) and then Felix moved to the other side of the carriage.

“Felix,” Sylvain said. “Look, I wanted to apologize.”

“Yeah, Srengi culture, I heard the excuse last night,” Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest. He had absolutely no problem kicking him again from this angle if he had to.

Sylvain grunted and breathed out. “No. That’s… I’m sorry. I thought you remembered me and were, I don’t know… being coy.”

“Must have been pretty boring in Sreng if you’re still stuck on something from over a decade ago,” Felix said.

“Clearly _not_ coy,” Sylvain said sourly, frowning as he leaned back in his seat.“I don’t understand you.”

“Join the club,” Felix said, and turned towards the window to ignore him. Felix tried to think about anything else during the ride to get his mind off of it. Swordplay, the last time he’d beaten Glenn in a spar (also the only time he’d beaten Glenn in a spar), his niece spitting up all over the Margrave’s jacket.

“What’s so funny?” Sylvain asked, ruining it.

“Nothing,” Felix said. “Stop looking at me,” he added.

“There’s not much else to look at,” Sylvain said.

Felix ignored him, but apparently Sylvain couldn't stand more than four minutes of silence. “Your cheeks were bigger. You used to get upset people would pinch them.”

Felix shifted more towards the window. That part he remembered. “I don’t like it when people touch me without asking.”

“Noted,” Sylvain said, but he sounded amused, which was infuriating. “I kinda miss them though. You were softer then— _nicer_ —now you’re about as sharp as your cheekbones.”

Felix turned to glare at him. “Knock it off, I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“What are you interested in?” Sylvain asked, undeterred.

Unbidden, he thought about the kiss again. “Swords,” Felix said, but he was thinking about how Fox’s hands felt against his back. It hadn’t even felt cold outside when they were pressed together like that.

He was losing his mind.

“Swords?” Sylvain asked.

“Swords,” Felix repeated. He had to stop thinking about the kiss. He had to stop thinking about a commoner who he’d probably never see again, who probably didn’t even _like_ him since he hadn’t give him his real name.

And if he’d snuck in, it wasn’t like Felix could find a list of who’d been invited and narrow down the people with red hair. That was _a lot_ of people. Hell, Ferdinand von Aegir had been there and was tall enough, it could been him.

Felix’s lips curled in disgust at the thought. He’d probably say his own name in bed.

“So, not chatty today, huh?” Sylvain asked, interrupting his thoughts again.

“What do you want? Felix asked. “I’m going to introduce you to Dimitri, or re-introduce you I guess, and then you can go annoy someone else with your inane babbling.”

Sylvain sighed and leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs forward, far enough that they hit the edge of the seat Felix was on. “Are you this friendly to everyone who makes a pass at you?”

“Yes,” Felix said and then, “No, but some people actually talk like normal humans before they try to…” His face felt warm thinking about specifics and he looked away out the window again. “Whatever.”

Fox had said he was from north, but the masquerade was in Gideon, so that left most of Faerghus. He would’ve been easier to track down if he were a noble, but he probably wouldn’t have been as interesting. And he definitely would’ve been way more fake and pretentious if he was a noble.

“If I tried to talk to you like a normal human would you let me?” Sylvain asked.

“I clearly don’t have to let you do anything,” Felix said, irritated that he wouldn’t shut up and kept interrupting Felix’s thoughts. “You’re going to do it anyway.”

Sylvain opened his mouth and then blessedly shut it. He let out a frustrated breath of air and stared out his own window, leaving Felix in relative peace for the rest of the ride.

When they arrived, Felix didn’t even have to introduce Sylvain, because Dimitri ignored protocol (usually something Felix preferred) and went right up to Sylvain, grasping his arm. “Sylvain! It’s so good to see you again.”

Sylvain blinked at him and then laughed. “Puberty _really_ treated you well.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dimitri said. Why were they talking like old friends? There was absolutely no way Dimitri remembered Sylvain that well. Even Ingrid barely remembered him. “You arrived at a good time, the Founding Day celebrations are already starting up.”

“Good is a strange way to put that,” Felix said. They were _barely_ into Red Wolf Moon. He didn’t want to deal with another barrage of pointless social endeavors leading up to what was usually too crowded of a feast for either Felix or Dimitri to feel comfortable at.

“I could do with a party or two,” Sylvain said, breezily. He seemed to notice one of the attendants giving him the stink eye and cleared his throat. “I should probably bow and stuff, right?”

“Please don’t,” Dimitri said, pained. “I was rather looking forward to hearing about Sreng and there’s really no need for the formalities.” He smiled brightly. “We’re old friends.”

Sylvain seemed a little surprised, but met Dimitri’s smile. “You’re right, we are.”

Lacey, one of the attendants, cleared her throat. “Ah, Your Highness, we do still have the drawing room set up with tea service, if you would like to entertain Lord Gautier and Lord Fraldarius there.”

Dimitri glanced back. “I’m distracting you from taking in luggage and doing things out here, aren’t I?”

“I would never say that, Your Highness,” Lacey said, in a way that clearly meant yes.

Dimitri sighed, but it was good natured and gestured them inside the palace. The drawing room was already occupied when they got there and the only face Felix could stand was Annette’s. She got up to say her hellos and was cut off by a tittering sycophant who was two seconds away from batting her eyes at Dimitri.

“Your Highness, we heard you had company.”

“Yes,” Dimitri said, clearly uncomfortable and as usual too nice to say anything. He cleared his throat. “This is Sylvain Gautier, he’s just returned from Sreng.” Absolutely no way they hadn’t already found that out. They were probably here to keep the palace’s gossip mill spinning. “And I assume you already know Felix.”

The girl looked slightly familiar, she pursed her lips and smiled tightly. “Yes, we’ve met.”

Another tittering idiot, one Felix did remember the name of, joined her. “I’m Lady Gwendolyn, but you can call me Gwen and this is Lady Isobel,” she said gesturing to the girl Felix now recognized as one of the idiots who’d spent at least forty minutes trying to hint that _he_ should ask _her_ to dance. She’d gotten frustrated and stomped off after an absurd amount of time instead of taking the hint or actually asking so he could say no.

“You may call me Lady Isobel,” she said.

Sylvain snorted. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. And the tiny redhead behind you?”

Annette was practically jumping at this point trying to get through the two women without being rude.

“Oh, Annette,” Dimitri said, smile turning more genuine. “I didn’t even see you.”

Annette took the invitation and squeezed between Lady Isobel and Lady Gwendolyn. She beamed up at Sylvain. “Hi! I’m Annette.”

Sylvain gave a short bow and a smile that made Annette’s ears turn pink. “I made some sweets,” she said. “And those boring fig cakes,” she added in Felix’s direction.

“Sucking up to me isn’t going to make up for dressing me as a damn cat, Annie.”

Annette’s face was shamelessly unapologetic. “Technically cats are predators, they’re obligate carnivores. And! You _like_ cats.”

“I like cats, I don’t want to be one,” Felix said, stiffly.

“It suits you,” Sylvain said, under his breath. Felix glared at him.

“How was the masque?” Dimitri asked, trying to edge further into the room. He barely managed, getting one of each lady on either side of him as he sat on the couch.

Felix ignored Annette’s excited chatter about it, because he didn’t want to think about it right now and sat down on the couch across from Dimitri. It left the chair for Sylvain, but he offered it to Annette and then Felix had to scoot over for him to sit next to him, which made him irritated all over again.

“It was a delightful time,” Lady Isobel said, and then none too subtly cast eyes in Felix’s direction. “Even if some people were recalcitrant in their acceptance of dance partners.”

Between Sylvain’s slobbering in Felix’s ear as he ate Annette’s sweets, and Dimitri’s long suffering discomfort being wedged between the two noble ladies, Felix lost his patience. “Why don’t you two go find somewhere else to sniff around?”

“Excuse me?” Lady Gwendolyn asked, affronted. Like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

“His Highness isn’t going to marry a minor noble with absolutely no beneficial political ties,” Felix said. Especially two women he clearly didn’t like. “And he’s too polite to tell you he’s not interested.”

“Felix…” Dimitri said, exasperatedly, but he didn’t correct Felix.

Lady Isobel noticed and got to her feet with a huff. _Now_ she could take a hint.

“I think we’ll find somewhere else to tea,” Lady Isobel said, drawing her skirts up as she walked past them, her slightly less annoying friend in tow. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Gautier,” she said, emphasizing the words like Felix gave a shit that she didn’t like him.

Felix got up when they were gone and closed the door. Then he sat down on the free space next to Dimitri who was looking like he wanted to smother him with a pillow. “Felix! That was horrible.”

“Was it untrue?” Felix asked, staring him down until he made a face and then looked away.

“You could be a _bit_ nicer about it,” Dimitri said.

Felix shrugged. “It would have taken longer, besides she was bothering me half the night at Gideon. She’ll find another marriage target soon enough.”

Dimitri seemed eager for a subject change. “I take it your feline sensibilities didn’t enjoy the masquerade?”

Felix elbowed him for the cat comment and avoided eye contact as he reached for one of Annette’s fig cakes. “I didn’t say that,” he said and then took a bite, trying to focus on the fact that it had walnuts rather than anything else he wasn’t going to talk about with them.

“It sounds like your dance card was empty,” Sylvain said, staring at him too intently.

Annette beamed. “No, Felix danced with me and Little Lady Iver, which was really cute,” she added. “Also didn’t I see you with someone else? The guy dressed as a wolf, I think?”

“Fox,” Felix said, automatically.

Annette smiled a little wider. “I didn’t see you for the rest of the night after that dance.”

Felix was absolutely going to murder Annette.

“I’d suspect that was normal Felix behavior,” Dimitri said, and then added (because he also wanted to be murdered), “but you’re blushing.”

Felix tried to remember why he wanted to visit Dimitri again. “You’re being rude to your guest, shouldn’t you be asking Sylvain pointless questions?”

“No, no,” Sylvain said, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other to rest his ankle on his knee. “I’d like to hear more about traditional Faerghus courting rituals. It’s key to my reintroduction,” he added.

Three murders. Felix was going to commit three murders.

The words ‘nothing happened’ and ‘it was nothing’ died in Felix’s throat. He couldn’t say either, which made him less angry and more depressed than anything else. “He’s a commoner who’s name I don’t know,” Felix said, “there’s no _courting_. I probably won’t even see him again.”

“Do you want to?” Annette asked.

Yes. “It doesn’t matter,” Felix said, “I’m not a desperate twit like every idiot who hangs off Dimitri like he actually likes them.”

“I don’t _dislike_ them,” Dimitri said. “Most of them.”

“How do you know he didn’t like you?” Sylvain asked, reminding Felix that he was also here for this humiliating conversation.

“I don’t know anything and I don’t care,” Felix said, and pushed himself off the couch. “I’m going to go train. I’ve been sitting too long.”

“Felix!” Annette said, but he was already halfway out the door.

The last thing he heard before he closed it was Sylvain Gautier saying in a bemused voice, “Swords, huh?”

* * *

Felix was bone tired by the time he got back to his room, but it was the good kind of tired. His mind was clear and he was going to kick Glenn’s ass next time they sparred. The usual room he stayed in had been set up. It was late and his hair was still wet from the baths, he tied it up off his neck so it wouldn’t drip onto his nightclothes and dug around for a spare towel.

He noticed an envelope on his pillow, which was strange. He finished drying his hair and picked it up. It was sealed, but the wax wasn’t stamped. He flicked his thumb against the seam and opened it. A familiar smelling flower fell out and Felix barely caught it before it got pollen all over his bedsheets.

He read the letter, expecting it to be from some fool who wanted into Fraldarius by way of his pants. It wasn’t.

_‘I debated not writing this. I probably shouldn’t have, but I can’t stop thinking about you. (You really are trouble.)_

_I don’t get to be myself very often, especially around nobles, so spending time with you was refreshing. (I’m_ _not_ _complaining about the not-talking events either, so we’re clear.)_

_(No—really—you are mouthy in more ways than one. I did not mind.)_

_I didn’t really expect much to come out of going to that ball, but that was without a doubt the best night I’ve ever had in Fódlan._

_It’s too complicated and this letter was a bad idea, but I felt like I had to tell you somehow._

_Maybe I’ll see you soon._

_-Fox’_

Felix read the letter again. And then two more times. The room was dimly lit and he was completely alone, but he still looked around before picking up the yellow flower again and smelling it. He didn’t know what kind it was, but it reminded him of the candlelit gardens, which must have been intentional.

Felix sat down on the bed, heart light in his chest.

Then he groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “How the fuck am I supposed to respond to this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moments after leaving, isobel turns to gwen and says "what a dick" to which gwen has to agree
> 
> (go see Mego's [amazing art](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1285091993396240384?s=20) of the letter scene!)


	3. Will you communicate by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow falls in Fhirdiad as Felix gets to meet up with Fox again, as long as Sylvain gets out of his way.
> 
> (or, felix made me write a damn action scene, the gremlin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SOOOOO much for all the comments, retweets, and kudos and generally support for this ridiculous concept that has taken over my brain! (Especially thanks to Mego who drew the CUTEST friggin' art that I continue to look at and get all the everyone lives!Felix feels -- he's SO BABY in this.)
> 
> I don't know if the next update is going to be as soon as the last two were, but appreciate the support. I'm @waffle-fancy on twitter if you'd like to hear me wax poetic about FE3H.

“Wow,” Annette said, “Wow.”

Felix regretted telling Annette anything and he was regretting it even more now. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“It’s just… it’s so romantic!” Annette said, delighted. “And _mysterious_ ,” she said the word with too much dramatic flair and Felix upped his level of regret. “I love a good mystery! Oh, I wish Mercie was here, she loves mysteries too.”

“Don’t tell Mercedes, or anyone,” Felix said, seriously enough that Annette looked at him, twisted her mouth and then nodded. Felix had battled with it all morning before finally going to see Annette, because he didn’t actually know how he was supposed to respond to a mysterious letter that was left on his pillow, but he really _wanted_ to respond and it was driving him nuts.

“So he’s got to be here in the palace or at least Fhirdiad,” Annette said, tapping her finger to her chin. “And has an in with the servants, unless you leave your door unlocked.” She looked at him. “Really?”

“I wasn’t in the room,” Felix said. “And I don’t have anything valuable in there.”

“A strange intruder could hide in your room at night!” Annette protested, but it backfired because it only made Felix wonder about Fox waiting in his room and he was probably never locking his door again.

“Can we focus?” Felix asked, but it was also directed at himself, because his mind was wandering and he did not want to be as embarrassed as he was when he woke up this morning after a night of very vivid dreams.

“Do you think he’s a servant at the palace?” Annette asked. “Maybe that’s how he got in?”

“Why would he haven been in Gideon?” Felix asked.

“Hmm, maybe he works for one of the minor lords that was there, like a footman!”

“He’s too in shape to be a footman,” Felix said, and regretted it as Annette’s smile turned a little devious. “Stop it,” he said.

Annette beamed at him. “It’s just so nice to see you like this. You’re always so angry when anyone approaches you.”

“I am _not_ ,” Felix said. “I’m honest, it doesn’t mean I’m angry.”

Annette breezed past it and then paced around the room. “Maybe he works in town? He could’ve been visiting relatives in Gideon or something?”

“That narrows it down to all of the palace staff, including the ones the slew of nobles visiting for Founding Day brought with them, _and_ everyone in town.” Felix put his head in his hands. This was going to drive him insane. Why did he write a letter Felix couldn’t respond to?

“All the redheads,” Annette said. “Unless he dyed his hair for the ball. It would fit his costume.”

“You’re not helping,” Felix said, muffled through his hands.

Annette hummed a little and when he looked up she was pacing again. “Maybe write a letter back?”

Felix glared at her. “And leave it where? Nail it to my door with a dagger?”

“That does sound very you,” Annette said. “He did say ‘maybe I’ll see you soon’ so maybe you have to wait for him to sweep you off your feet.”

Felix would have to walk around the palace for the next two days with no idea who Fox was or where he was and _hope_ he ran into him again? The door and dagger were sounding better already.

“Oh, it’s _snowing_ ,” Annette said suddenly. She ran to the window and Felix begrudgingly followed her, mostly to see how bad the snow was. It was falling heavy and there’d be a thick sheet of it covering the ground by midday at this rate. Felix felt sick at the thought. “Maybe,” Annette said, conspiratorially. “It’ll be a blizzard and snow us and Fox in!”

The idea turned Felix’s stomach. He hated snow, but it was an inevitability this time of year. “Don’t wish for a blizzard.”

“I’m only saying it’d be romantic,” Annette said.

She was absolutely no help.

In the end, Felix stuck a note to the door with a piece of string around the door handle, so he wouldn’t get yelled at for ruining ancient wood with a dagger (this was also a little more subtle). Of course immediately after he did it, Sylvain Gautier was leaving his room, which as Felix’s terrible luck would have it was right next to Felix’s own.

“You know you could lock the door instead of leaving a do not disturb sign,” Sylvain said, because he thought he was funny.

Felix pursed his lips. “The maids have master keys.”

Sylvain grinned at him. It looked so fake. “Better be nice to them, huh?” When Felix didn’t respond, the fake grin dropped. “Seems like it’s going to snow pretty hard,” Sylvain said. “Dimitri was telling me about some of the Founding Day festivities, they sound… interesting.”

_Dimitri was telling me._

Ugh. Felix would’ve left already if he wasn’t worried Sylvain would immediately look at the note on the door (not that it was very descriptive, Felix figured someone he didn’t want to might look at it so kept it to the point). “They’re not,” he said.

Sylvain stared at him. “Would’ve thought you’d enjoy the challenge of it.”

“You don’t know me,” Felix said. He was tired of having his entire life assumed for him. He already had enough of that normally. “I don’t care if we met when we were kids. Even if I remembered I wouldn’t be the same person I was when I was six or whatever.”

“Seven,” Sylvain said, correcting him. “You were seven.”

“Fine, seven,” Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Either way, knock it off.”

“I’m not trying to hit on you, I’m…” Sylvain let out a frustrated burst of air. “How are you _this_ hard to talk to?”

“Maybe take a hint and stop trying,” Felix said. This wasn’t the first or even fifth time someone had put on airs and pretended to actually be nice when they were as fake as almost every other person in the nobility. Felix wasn’t going to fall for it.

Sylvain threw his hands up in the air and then went back into his room, slamming the door behind. Felix felt slightly less tense and with a look back at the note on the handle, frowned, and then made himself hit the training yards for at least a few hours.

There was a fresh layer of snow outside when Felix finished. It wasn’t high enough to really do anything, but Felix could see some of the palace kids, nobles and servants alike making snowballistas to throw at each other with what was there. The sun cut through the clouds, reflecting off the white snow with a sharp stinging light. Felix turned away from it and went to his room to change before dinner. He was also hoping to see that the note was gone or replaced with a new one, but it was still hanging off the door handle where he’d left it. Felix ignored the weight in his stomach and ripped it off the handle before shoving the door open. He shut it behind him and was about to crumple the paper when he saw something.

Beneath, Felix’s _‘It’s rude to leave a note without a way to respond.’_ was a familiar script that said, _‘Stables tomorrow. Around four.’_ then beneath that, _‘Also sorry, didn’t think about that.’_

Felix bit down on his lip to keep from smiling.

* * *

Dinner and into the next day passed incredibly slowly. The snow was building up high enough that it was likely he’d be stuck here longer than a few days. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but Felix still didn’t love seeing the white powder build higher and higher until it drowned out everything underneath it. It made his chest feel tight—like he couldn’t catch his breath.

He was relieved that he at least had sparring with Dimitri to take his mind off waiting until he met with Fox at four, but when he got to the palace training grounds, Dimitri wasn’t alone.

“Felix,” Dimitri said, smiling. “Sylvain’s going to join us if that’s all right?”

“Fine,” Felix said, because he didn’t care, even if it was taking from the little time he actually got to spend with Dimitri. He’d be busy with all the stupid events that needed planning soon, especially if the snow didn’t let up and King Lambert and the Queen were stuck at Lake Teutates.

“Such enthusiasm, I should be flattered,” Sylvain said. He handed Felix a training sword. “Swords, right?”

Felix took it and ignored him.

“Don’t mind Felix,” Dimitri said. “He’s always like this, this time of year.”

“No patriotism for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus’s founding?” Sylvain asked, in that way he seemed to do, which didn’t really require a response.

Felix scoffed. “Why don’t you try the Loog Blessed Swim challenge and then tell me how much you enjoy Founding Day?”

“Should I know what that is?” Sylvain asked.

Dimitri picked out a training lance, it seemed like Sylvain had done that as well, although the way he held it was strange. “Competitors strip to their small clothes and see who can last under the water the longest.”

“That’s… really?” Sylvain asked. “Wouldn’t they catch hypothermia?”

“The winners generally do,” Dimitri said, with a shrug.

“Huh,” Sylvain said. “And they say Sreng is backwards.”

Felix couldn’t help the snort, but immediately regretted it when it seemed to encourage Sylvain who was grinning at him with that stupid expression again, like he’d won Felix over by telling a single joke. Felix gritted his teeth. “Why don’t you two start since you’re both wielding lances.”

Felix leaned back against the wall and observed them fight. It wasn’t as one-sided as he was expecting. Dimitri did start off too easy to be nice, but Sylvain seemed to have enough skill that he actually started to challenge him. Sylvain’s fighting style was interesting at least. Felix didn’t spend much time in Gautier (thankfully) so he’d never run into any Sreng skirmishes, only heard some of the stories from his father. Sylvain fought with the lance like he was used to using a weapon that length, but probably not a lance. Maybe something heavier on at least one of the ends. Felix almost wanted to ask him, but he was worried that would encourage him.

Sylvain countered well enough when Dimitri started to brute strength his way through the fight (a tactic he always tried to use when he was losing to Felix) and seemed to focus on directly countering the attacks rather than using speed to avoid them. He seemed fast enough he probably could have, so Felix wondered if he was showing off.

Then Sylvain took the opportunity of Dimitri losing his footing, not to take an attack that would’ve won him the bout, but to _wink_ at Felix.

Felix didn’t even have the chance to roll his eyes before Dimitri took advantage and Sylvain was on the floor.

“Good match,” Dimitri said, holding his hand out for Sylvain to help him up.

“Could’ve gone better in my opinion,” Sylvain said, as he hauled up to his feet. He and Dimitri were both a little out of breath, but instead of taking a break Sylvain looked Felix’s way and pointed his training lance at him. “Want to take me on?”

“No,” Felix said.

“Why? You afraid you’ll lose?” Sylvain asked.

“No, I’m afraid you’ll waste a good sparring session on trying to flirt,” Felix said.

Sylvain didn’t argue but shifted on his feet. He spun the lance in his hands. “What if we make it interesting?”

Felix resisted the impulse as well as he could, but it was difficult to stand down from a challenge. “How?”

Sylvain grinned. “I win, you have to spend the rest of the day with me.”

“Not a chance,” Felix said, automatically. He had plans, not to mention even if he _didn’t_ that wasn’t how he wanted to spend the day.

“Think you’re going to lose that much?” Sylvain asked.

He was taunting him. Felix knew he was taunting him, but it was still making his fingers itch.

“What do I get out of it?” Felix asked.

Dimitri spoke up, “If Felix wins, Sylvain has to compete in the Loog Blessed Swim.”

Sylvain winced at the idea, which made Felix immediately agree to it and say, “Think you’re going to lose that much?” back at him.

Sylvain raised his eyebrows and shrugged, before he spun the lance in his hand and stepped towards the center of the training yard. “You want to switch your weapon out? Mine has more reach.”

“I’m fine,” Felix said. He loosened his grip on his sword and walked towards Sylvain. He wasn’t surprised when Sylvain attempted to unbalance him immediately before they’d even called the match a start, but he did enjoy the way Sylvain’s eyes widened as he made his way towards the floor when Felix moved quickly enough out of the way.

Felix did have to give him that instead of falling down, Sylvain used the weight of his training lance to catch himself and actually used some of the speed he’d been avoiding with Dimitri to spin around and catch Felix’s sword before it hit him.

Sylvain was definitely used to fighting with a different weapon, but he still managed well enough to give Felix a challenge. His footwork was cleaner than Felix was expecting, but there was something about his stance that let him change position quicker than Felix anticipated and so it took Felix too long to get into range. Lances did have more reach, but that wasn’t enough to completely give them an advantage. Generally Felix was used to dealing with people who underestimated him and tried to brute force their way through a match… but Sylvain was actually decent.

“You look impressed,” Sylvain said. Felix ignored him and came at him with a swing from his right. Sylvain managed to block it in time, but only just. “Stronger than you look, Fe.”

“Don’t call me that,” Felix snapped.

Sylvain’s response was to grin at him again, which left him completely open to Felix’s feint and had Sylvain disarmed and on the floor within a matter of seconds. “Ow,” Sylvain said, from the floor. “How cold is this swim again?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Felix said, pulling his training sword back from where it was aimed at Sylvain’s throat.

“No, a deal is a deal,” Sylvain said. “Even if that deal is likely going to make my nether regions never speak to me again.”

Felix smirked. “In that case, you should definitely do it.”

He couldn’t decipher the look Sylvain gave him, but at least the responding smile didn’t look fake. Felix looked at Dimitri, who was too amused with himself at his vantage point watching the match. Felix pointed his training sword at him. “You want to bet too?”

“No,” Dimitri said, getting his lance. “Once in that frigid ice water was enough, thank you.”

Sylvain rubbed his back as he got to his feet. “Did you win at least?”

“No,” Dimitri said with a sigh. “Ingrid did.”

“She also almost lost a toe,” Felix said. It was the stupidest Faerghus tradition ever. He’d done it too (Glenn had dared him) but it was still pointless, ridiculous, dangerous, and outdated.

“Oh Ingrid,” Sylvain said, his usual smarmy charm back on his face. “How’s her granny doing?”

Felix wondered how close to four it was.

* * *

The palace stables were enormous. Originally there’d been two wings on either side of the castle, but that had proved too difficult for upkeep so they’d moved them all to the south end and had separated them from there based on rank, status, and flying versus regular mounts. Felix only knew this because he’d had to listen in on meetings where they discussed this for five fucking hours before they finally decided. Decisions would go a lot faster in Faerghus if people didn’t love to hear themselves talk.

It made it a longer walk in the snow than Felix would’ve liked. The fresh snowfall had risen to below his knee and stepping in (and sinking into) it was making him stomach turn. He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth and was relieved when his feet hit the already freshly shoveled landing of the stables.

Felix relief turned into a mixture of nerves, the further he got into the stables. Felix was starting to worry that maybe the stables had been too broad of a direction to follow. He passed the filled stalls with horses and then checked the empty ones, until he reached the back of the first section of the stables.

Felix swallowed his nerves and checked the next section. By the third he was beginning to feel foolish, but then he heard a knock at one of the stalls he’d passed and when he turned towards it, he noticed that human feet were sticking out beneath.

It could’ve been a stablehand.

Felix would rather go back to sparring then make an idiot out of himself, but he stepped closer and risked it anyway. “Is that you?”

“Unless you were planning on meeting someone else at the stables, then yes,” Fox replied from behind the door. Felix’s relief and excitement faded as he reached for the latch for door and was stopped. “Don’t,” Fox said. “It’s easier like this.”

Felix frowned. “What? Why?” The only reason he could think of made him frown harder. “If there’s something you don’t like about your face, like a scar or birthmark, I don’t care.”

“It’s not that, but good to know.”

Felix stared at wood and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling he was having. “Then why is it easier?”

Then Fox said the worst possible thing he could have, “I shouldn’t have written that letter.”

Felix was suddenly glad of the wall between them because he really didn’t want Fox to see his face. Felix felt like a fool.

“I meant it,” Fox added quickly. “It’s… it wasn’t a good idea. We’re not a good idea.”

“Why?” Felix asked, still trying to regain his bearings. “Because you’re a commoner? I don’t care about that.”

“You’re second son of the most auspicious noble house in Fódlan _with_ a major crest, if you don’t care about it, someone else will.”

Felix had been dealing with that expectation since his crest manifested and subsequently ignoring or turning down offers immediately afterward. It wasn’t like it was new.

“I don’t care what other people think,” Felix said, sharply.

Fox laughed, but it sounded fond. “I gathered that.”

“Then what's the problem?” Felix asked, but then it hit him. “You care what people think.”

The sigh on the other side of the door was long and weary. “I have to. It’s how you survive in Faerghus. Present company excluded.”

Obviously Felix wasn’t excluded or the door would be open. Felix felt like his heart had fallen somewhere into his gut. Any anticipation and expectation he’d had was flattened by the outdated Faerghus culture of blood over all. “So you’re saying you don’t want to see me anymore.”

“Whether I want to or should, are two very different things,” Fox said, he sounded like he meant it. “If it was only me I might not care, but I have family that I have to think about,” he said, and then quieter, “I’m the only one that will.”

“So that’s it then,” Felix said, making his voice steady even though his eyes were stinging.

“It probably should be.”

This was the story of Felix’s life. Everything surrounding Felix _should_ be something it wasn’t, especially Felix himself. The traitorous sniff left his nose before he could stop it, ruining the only benefit to the door being between them. Felix heard his name and the door being opened and turned away to get out of the stables before he could be even more humiliated. For once maybe he wouldn’t mind the snow. It would give his face an excuse for being weak enough to broadcast his emotions. He thought he outgrew this.

Unfortunately Felix had turned in the wrong direction and was facing the back of the stables instead of the way out, hearing what were definitely Fox’s footsteps behind him. Felix pulled his hood up over his head and then down as far as it would go, wishing he could disappear into it.

“I’m sorry,” Fox said behind him.

Felix tensed at the idea of being pitied. Glenn calling him an ‘emotional kid’ played on loop in his head.

“Can I…” Fox started and then let out a startled, but soft, laugh as he came around to see Felix still dragging his hood down his face. “So you get the mask this time, seems fair.”

Felix could barely see out from beneath the hood and felt even more foolish for doing it. He shouldn’t have come here at all.

Fox breathed out and Felix could see through the fur trim that Fox’s hands were lifted, stalled in place. “Can I give you a hug?”

Felix shrugged and mumbled his assent and almost immediately two strong arms wrapped around him, shoving his face into Fox’s chest. Despite himself, Felix hugged back. It was warm and didn’t feel terrible.

“I shouldn’t have written that letter,” Fox murmured. “It was a jerk move. I just really wanted to talk to you again.”

He still smelled like pine needles and there wasn’t an inch between them in the embrace. Felix turned a little so he could breathe. “Am I not allowed to _talk_ to a commoner now either?”

Fox’s quiet chuckle vibrated off his chest and against Felix’s cheek. “You are so very dangerous, Felix.”

A ridiculous thing to say while comforting Felix because he was a sensitive emotional mess. “So can we at least talk then?” Felix asked.

Warm arms tightened around him. “I would really like that,” he said, and sounded like he meant it. “How do you feel about letters? That… might be easier right now.”

“I wouldn’t call hiding them in my room or sticking them to my door easier,” Felix said, pushing his nose into where he was pretty sure Fox’s collarbone was underneath the layers.

“Leave them on your windowsill,” Fox said. “How’s that?”

Not remotely what Felix wanted or was hoping for when he came here, but he supposed it was better than nothing. “Its below freezing,” Felix said.

“Let me worry about that part,” Fox said. His arms were still twined around Felix and Felix was certain it was going to end sooner rather than later and really didn’t want it to. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually hugged someone like this.

As he expected, Fox’s arms started to loosen from around him. Felix dropped his own in defeat, to get it over with. Before Fox broke off the embrace, his hands came to rest on Felix’s arms. “Can I be a jerk again?”

“You’re not a jerk,” Felix said, feeling suddenly defensive for Fox, even though he was really insulting himself. “It’s not your fault this entire country is trapped hundreds of years in the past.”

Two breaths and then, Fox said, “I’d really like to kiss you one more time, but I don’t want to make this worse.”

Felix swallowed. “Okay.”

“Are you s—”

“What did I just say?” Felix snapped, without meaning to, but Fox laughed that soft, fond laugh again that made Felix feel warmer against the chill.

Fox tugged Felix’s hood down a little more before tipping Felix’s chin back and pressing his lips against Felix’s own. Fox’s lips were chapped from the chill, but warm and wetter (for far too short a time) when the kiss deepened lifting Felix’s heart up from his stomach and back into his chest. When Fox pulled back, Felix automatically tried to follow him with his own mouth, but was stopped by a calloused hand on his chin. “Easy, Kitten,” Fox said, in a low voice. “I do not want to be more of a jerk than I already am.”

Felix lips seemed to push out on their own accord, but he lowered himself by his heels back to the ground. He had no idea what to say (or at least all the things he wanted to say he knew he shouldn’t), so Felix said, “Windowsill?”

“Windowsill,” Fox agreed and his thumb brushed against Felix’s cheek briefly before he dropped his hands and took a step back.

“Do you want to leave first?” Felix asked, his head pointed to the floor even if he couldn’t really see anything.

“No,” Fox said, gently. “I might stick around here for a while. I like horses. I don’t get to see them this close usually, they run wild at home.”

“Lucky horses,” Felix muttered, still a little too flushed and lightheaded to be as miserable as he wanted.

“I don’t disagree,” Fox said and reached out to squeeze Felix’s hand before his footsteps indicated he was probably walking to one of the stalls.

Felix shoved his hood off his face, but only managed to catch the back half of Fox before he disappeared into a stall. Felix pulled his hood on again, though not enough to impair his vision, and made his way back into the stupid snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annette spends part of the day eyeballing servants with red hair and holding up a paper cut out of a fox mask she made up to their face from a distance. She is not subtle and is asked to stop soon after.
> 
> Mego has once again drawn a scene & a bonus comic re: the above note, pls bow before the greatness and [GO LOOK](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1286445404649742336).


	4. And digging holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix gets snowed in and has to stay at the castle for a little longer, leaving him more time to communicate with Fox and Sylvain.
> 
> (or, i dunk on faerghus a lot in this chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the kind comments & kudos! They are very motivating as is Mego telling me she had ~dream~ I would update this today. I was kinda dying to get this one out anyway. No promises, but I'm shooting for chapter five sometime next week. Come bother me on twitter at @waffle-fancy if you'd like.

Two things happened the next morning: first, Felix woke up to a letter on his windowsill; and second, Annette’s wish of a blizzard appeared to be coming true. They were snowed in.

Felix wondered how the hell Fox managed to get the letter on the sill before it got icy, but not enough to delay in grabbing it (and then shutting the window immediately afterwards) and reading it right away.

The letter was incredibly short.

_‘Did you know that horses bite? I didn’t know this. I don’t remember them biting when I was a kid. I have now confirmed they do bite and that it hurts and that they’ll bite you again if you startle them by yelling about the bite in the first place.’_

Felix couldn’t help the amused snort at the mental image, which made him feel a little better even with the snow. He wrote back and then shoved his letter beneath the window enough so that it could be pulled out without trouble.

For the next few days Felix got a letter (and responded) every morning and every evening (and twice also at midday). There weren’t any grand romantic overtures (no matter how much Annette asked to read them to prove it), but Felix looked forward to each one. Fox wrote about his family and how his adoptive older sister would threaten to pelt him with river rocks if he didn’t keep up during a hike and that it took him a while to realize she wasn’t actually going to throw him into the river if she said she would.

Felix wrote about why he hated snow. It felt strange to put it to paper when he’d never really talked about it. Felix wrote about the time he ‘ran away from home’ even if he couldn’t remember why or how, all he could remember was being upset, scared, and cold while the snow piled up higher and higher around him until he thought he’d never get out. He wrote about being sick after and how it had taken him almost a year to get back into anything normal, like training. How weak he’d looked to everyone around him and how he never wanted to see pity like that again.

Fox danced around the subject of not liking Faerghus too much, though it was clear he wasn’t a fan of the split between nobles and commoners and the reliance on crests and blood. Felix tried not to hope that he was specifically annoyed, because it was preventing them from seeing each other.

Felix had no issue writing out his list of reasons why the crest-based nobility system was absurd and how it didn’t actually have any indication of worth, especially judging by how many useless nobles there were. When Fox asked Felix what he’d change, Felix didn’t have an answer, but it wasn’t like he could make any changes himself.

Felix stayed at the castle until it was almost Founding Day, the snow was finally starting to let up, but the roads weren’t cleared yet and it was unlikely that the King and Queen would make it in time for any of the traditional festivities. That left Dimitri juggling playing a host to all the nobles who had come early (mostly to rub elbows) and all the other duties he had as prince.

Felix gave the latest winter gathering an hour and a half before he grabbed Dimitri by the arm and literally pulled him out of a conversation.

“You know that was rude,” Dimitri said, but he was following without complaint.

“They’ll entertain themselves, come on,” Felix said. He threw the coat he’d grabbed for Dimitri at him and smirked at Dimitri’s expression as he figured it out.

There weren’t many guards outside, as most of the nobility were inside and attacks in this high of snow were unlikely (and honestly if accomplished, probably meant that attacker should win). There were a group of kids playing Loog and Kryphon, arguing over who had to be stuck as Pan or the Emperor before Felix and Dimitri made it to the copse of trees surrounding the castle.

Felix and Dimitri made their way through the outside of the glade and then past the frozen stream, until they got to the crabapple grove.

“I can’t remember the last time we were here,” Dimitri said, kicking his feet through the (thankfully) reasonable level of snow.

“It was before the Academy,” Felix said and watched his breath mist in the air as he spoke. “Ingrid was telling us she was going.”

“Ah yes, when they put off their engagement for a year,” Dimitri nodded to himself. It seemed like longer than that. Felix still couldn’t believe the Academy was only a year. “Why the sudden impulse to revisit?” Dimitri asked, absently as he stared up into the branches of one of the higher trees, stripped bare since late autumn.

“You looked like you could use the break,” Felix said.

Dimitri shrugged and picked at a branch until all the snow fell off it in a flump. “It wasn’t that bad, but I don’t really enjoy the crowds.”

“Dima,” Felix asked, a nickname he didn’t use very often anymore, and so Dimitri immediately stopped exploring the grove to look at him. “What do you think about crests?”

“Abstractly or scientifically? Because I have to admit it was difficult to listen to Hanneman when he went on a tangent.”

Felix shook his head. “If they didn’t matter, inheritance wise, do you think things would be better or worse?”

Dimitri seemed to think that over. “They’d be different. I can’t really imagine my uncle as king.”

King Rufus. That wasn’t a pleasant thought. “That’s not answering my question.”

“I don’t know if I can answer. It is the way it is,” Dimitri said. “I don’t… like it. We met enough people at the Officer’s Academy alone that proved how capable people without crests can be. I’m not sure how to fix it. It’d take a lot of convincing for many people who are reliant on the way we do things.”

Both of their fathers included. Dimitri put his hands in his pockets. “Sylvain was describing the Sreng governance system and it’s very interesting. I can’t picture it here, but I like the idea of a set place where everyone, no matter how low or highborn they are, gets a voice.”

“I doubt it’s that idyllic,” Felix said, not really annoyed with Sreng.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow at him. “You really don’t like Sylvain, do you?”

“Do you really remember him?” Felix asked, avoiding the question.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes, because he knew what Felix was doing, but he was Dimitri so he still answered. “Somewhat. Even if I didn’t, he seems nice now. He’s… asked about you a lot and I do remember us being friends when we were younger.”

“What was he asking?” Felix asked, flatly.

Dimitri avoided the question and walked over to shake another branch. “This and that.”

“Dimitri,” Felix said.

Dimitri sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Mostly what you like now and how to get on your good side. I think he feels embarrassed about a bad first impression.”

Then he could stop acting like a complete jackass every time Felix ran into him. That might help. “What do I like now?” Felix asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I may have mentioned sparring,” Dimitri said and didn’t look the slightest bit ashamed at his complete and utter betrayal.

“What the fuck, Dimitri?”

“I didn’t spill out your worst secrets, Felix,” Dimitri said, a smile that Felix didn’t like crept on his face. “Wouldn’t have needed to anyway, because he already knew about the time you freed the castle cats from their confinement and effectively destroyed the Morozova wedding.”

Felix sank to his feet, gathered snow in his hands, and chucked it at Dimitri’s head. He was already gathering up a second handful when Dimitri retaliated. Felix wasn’t sure how long they spent acting like kids again, determined to get the other the most covered in snow, but Felix had snow dripping down his neck and was halfway to smashing some in Dimitri’s face when someone found their sanctum.

Sylvain was watching them with amusement and Felix wasn’t sure how how long he’d been there, but the easy mood dropped like the temperature.

“Sylvain?” Dimitri asked, as Felix asked, “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Private snow fight?” Sylvain asked, undeterred. His amused smile shifted into something else that really rubbed Felix the wrong way. They weren’t supposed to be fake here. It was one of the only rules (the other one was to never tell Glenn about it).

“Did you follow us?” Felix asked, dropping the snow out of his hand and brushing his glove off on his jacket.

“No,” Sylvain said, his brow furrowing. “I’m the one that found this place.” He paused. “When we were kids… you don’t remember.”

“It sounds,” Dimitri said, ready to build up to a polite lie, “familiar. I think.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Felix said. Now that they’d stopped messing around, he was starting to feel the chill again and remembered why he hated snow. Especially as it crawled down his back.

“Me or His Highness?” Sylvain asked.

“Both of you,” Felix snapped. It was like he was the only person left in Faerghus who said what they meant.

Dimitri brushed some snow out of his hair. “We should probably get back anyway.”

Great. Dimitri was rolling back into His Highness mode. Felix couldn’t get him away from it for even half an hour. “Right,” Felix said. “Can’t disappoint the people who probably didn’t notice you were missing.”

“You’re only upset because I was clearly winning,” Dimitri said.

Felix threw one last snowballista at him before they went back in.

Dimitri had managed to get an obnoxious amount of snow down Felix’s back (which did _not_ count as winning) so Felix spent the rest of the night in front of the fire trying to warm up, which left him watching the room. Annette was whirling around chatting with people, a bright flurry of tiny red hair popping up in between nobles. Dimitri had gotten trapped in a triad of minor lords set on bending his ear about something the king had probably already rejected (served him right).

And Sylvain was chatting up Lady Isobel, Lady Gwendolyn, and one of their friends. Felix was unfortunately close enough to hear the tittering drivel. “You are so surprising! I thought you’d be far less civilized after being raised in Sreng.”

Sylvain’s smile was nauseatingly fake. “Surprised or disappointed? Because I could be a bit less civilized if that is what you ladies are into.”

The giggling response made Felix nauseous and he shifted in front of the fire to hopefully get out of earshot. Unfortunately that brought him right into range of someone he did not want to deal with, House Kleiman’s youngest son. Bastian seemed to assume Felix moving was an invitation and got close enough that Felix could smell the stale wine on his breath.

“Surprised to see you here, Fraldarius,” Bastian said. “You’re not usually at social gatherings this late.”

“You could see less of me if you walked in the other direction,” Felix suggested.

Bastian, because he was House Kleiman and they were always looking for a way to be more than a single Lordship, laughed like it was some fun joke they were both in on. Felix didn’t have to wonder if that worked on anyone or not, because if it did, he doubted Bastian would be here right now annoying him.

Bastian got closer and lowered his voice to a rasp that he probably thought was seductive and not revolting. “Are you keeping an eye out for your mystery beau?”

Felix barely resisted knocking him over and moved enough to put distance but not look like he was fleeing the question. “Fuck off.”

Bastian didn’t take the hint and followed, reaching an arm up to lean against the brick accent above Felix’s head. “Word is you’ve defrosted for a commoner,” he said. The slight slur on his words meant he was definitely drunk, but that wasn’t making Felix feel charitable towards him.

Bastian was too close and it was making Felix uncomfortable, but he was _absolutely_ sure that if he caused a scene by punching Bastian in the nose, he’d never hear the end of it. And it’d probably mess up Dimitri’s show of running things on his own.

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” Felix asked. If he said it and then Felix turned him down, his ego would probably bruised enough that he’d fuck off and Felix wouldn’t have to freeze with a wet back on the other side of the room.

“Wondering _what_ actually worked on you, honestly,” Bastian said. Then his hand, already too close to Felix’s head, dropped to touch his hair.

Felix reflexively jerked his head away and decided freezing was better or maybe he would punch Bastian in the nose after all, when a hand landed on Bastian’s shoulder. Sylvain leaned in towards the asshole’s ear. “I’d be careful if I were you, Felix has pretty good reflexes and from what I’ve heard you’re trying to keep the Kleiman line going, right?”

Bastian turned his head to glare, but looked at Sylvain and then his expression evened out to blank gentility. “You’re Gautier, the one who returned from Sreng?”

“Right,” Sylvain said and Felix saw the hand he had on Bastian’s shoulder tighten. “Want to go catch up or maybe go fuck off like he said in the first place?”

They made prolonged eye contact like they were two wolves about to fight over who got first bite of fresh venison. Finally, Bastian said, “I suppose they don’t teach manners in Sreng,” and actually did fuck off.

Felix rolled his shoulders back and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to get rid of the creep going up his neck from where Bastian had touched his hair.

Felix was prepared for more of Sylvain’s ill-timed advances, but Sylvain only dropped his tight smile and said in a lowered tone, “Does that happen a lot?”

Felix shrugged.

Sylvain let out a sharp breath. “Shit. No wonder you — I am really sorry about before.”

“It’s fine,” Felix said, crossing his arms tighter.

“It’s not,” Sylvain said and looked like he was going to take a step closer, but then thought better of it. He rubbed his hand on the back his neck. “Are you okay?”

“I can handle myself,” Felix said, irritated at the implication he couldn’t.

“That’s not really an answer,” Sylvain said.

Felix shifted on his feet. “I’m used to it. I’m fine. It’s only annoying because Dimitri put ice down my back and I can’t get my shirt dry.”

“Not while you’re wearing it,” Sylvain said and when Felix glanced up at him he didn’t look like he was saying a line for once. “You should go change and hang it up. Surprised you weren’t using that as an excuse to leave. I would have.”

Felix stared at him.

Sylvain touched his own face, like he thought there was something on it. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Felix said. “That’s probably the first time you’ve said something to me that wasn’t complete bullshit.”

Sylvain’s laugh sounded too startled to be fake. “You really didn’t need a rescue did you?”

“No,” Felix agreed, and then begrudgingly, “But thanks. I wouldn’t want to mess up Dimitri’s hosting by stabbing Lord Kleiman’s son through the leg with a fire poker.”

“Might make it more interesting,” Sylvain said, offhand.

Felix snorted and felt slightly less tense. The idea of going back to his room to put on warm clothes was sounding more appealing. It was probably late enough now not to reflect badly on his behavior if he ditched… it was also probably late enough that there’d be a letter waiting for him.

“I’ll keep that mind for next time,” Felix said. Sylvain’s responding nod and expression were hard to read.

When Felix made it back to his room, he took off his wet shirt and his pants which were wet at the seam (fucking Dimitri) and threw them haphazardly across the room. He changed into his nightclothes and tried to have enough patience to not feel like his spine was still an icicle before he opened the window to grab the latest letter.

He was starting to feel pathetically light about even looking at Fox’s handwriting.

_‘I think you should make peace with the snow._

_Or move to Brigid. Either way, it might make things easier since Faerghus is covered in it half the year._

_(And there are few things better than freshly fallen snow and taking a deep breath of that crisp, clean air.)_

_Something to think about.’_

Felix read it a few more times and then put it in the drawer with the others before responding. He paused before he opened the window. It was barely snowing now, even if it was frigid outside.

Felix opened the window and took a deep breath of cold air.

* * *

The Loog Blessed Swim had six participants this year. The only ones who stood a chance of winning were the second son of Count Charon, Hector (although a better chance if he were his sister Cassandra), Anton, the son of a minor lord from Mateus, and Connal Rowe, a third cousin to the Count serving in the Kingsguard. That left Daria von Keary, from the Alliance, and Pierre-Louis, some rich merchant from Adrestia, and Sylvain as the most likely to fail in the betting pool.

A fact that Sylvain seemed to have figured out. “They’re betting for me to _lose_?”

“Not… exactly,” Dimitri said.

“More like how you’ll lose,” Annette said, helpfully.

Felix snorted and then gave Sylvain another out. “You don’t actually have to do it.”

Sylvain ignored him, adjusting the absurdly large coat of furs he was wrapped in. He glanced over towards the water that had been frozen over until an hour ago when the top layer was chipped away for Faerghus’s most pointless competition. “Am I at least better odds than that guy?” he asked, pointing to Pierre-Louis who was combing back his hair.

“It’s fifty-fifty,” Annette said, cheerfully.

Sylvain grumbled something under his breath and walked towards the patch of freezing ice water that had been sectioned off for him.

Felix looked over the competitors again. “Ten gold says the Adresitian doesn’t make it in the water.”

Dimitri tutted. “Felix’s that’s rather uncharitable, I say he at least gets his toe in.”

“I’m with Felix,” Annette said. “He’s putting pomade in his hair so it doesn’t get messed up when he goes under.”

“How do you think Sylvain will do?” Dimitri asked.

Annette’s hands flailed in front of her. “Could go either way! He seems smart enough not to want to turn into an icicle, but Sreng’s really cold, right? And he was born in Gautier.”

Hector Charon chuckled as he passed by to approach his own starting point. “A Srengi won’t win. They can’t even win at their own borders.”

“What a jerk! I’m going to go bet he loses,” Annette said, before stomping off.

Dimitri gave a weary sigh and Felix watched as Sylvain’s expression evened out into something unfamiliar. Sylvain looked serious.

The competitors lined up and then stripped down to their smallclothes. The Alliance girl and Imperial merchant immediately started shivering, getting a couple of laughs out of the crowd. Felix rolled his eyes when he heard several catcalls as Hector and Connal stripped (he didn’t… _disagree_ with them on the latter, but it was still stupid).

Felix shoved his hands into his pockets and he glanced over at Sylvain, who wasn’t shivering at all. He was _definitely_ in better shape than he presented himself. Felix had a hard time drawing his eyes away from a claw-shaped scar that curved around his extremely defined shoulder muscles. Felix had an even harder time when Sylvain turned around and stretched, showcasing an abdominal wall with skin pulled so tightly around each muscle it looked like it could snap.

Felix must have had some luck on his side, because Sylvain didn’t turn around to see Felix’s blatant gawking. Instead, Sylvain stretched his arms and shot a toothy, mirthless grin in Hector’s direction before turning to his own water.

Felix was grateful once they actually started the damn thing so he could stop feeling flushed before someone noticed. He tried focusing on the non-Faerghans, but he humiliatingly couldn’t tear himself away from the view until Sylvain dropped into the water.

Felix plotted death against his own hormones and looked to see the Alliance girl swearing as she got in. The Imperial merchant dipped his foot into the water and then immediately pulled it out and gestured for his clothes. “Dammit,” Felix said.

“You should expect more of people, Felix,” Dimitri said, his small smile irritatingly smug.

Felix resisted the urge to kick him. It went on for another minute or two before surprisingly Anton dragged himself out and the Alliance girl was still in. She seemed to think third to last was good enough and scrambled out immediately afterwards. It was another four minutes before the three left swimming in ice lost another one. Connal pulled himself out of the water and grinned through chattering teeth at the other Kingsguard, “Sorry lads, still need functioning limbs for service.”

Felix let the grousing they gave him as he dried off fade into the background. Sylvain was still completely serious as he swam in place in the frigid waters. Hector’s nostrils flared as he realized he was competing against only Sylvain and then he set his jaw.

Minutes passed, each subsequent one getting the crowd more excited. Both Sylvain and Hector seemed at a stalemate, even as someone shouted, “Ten minutes!” to another excited burst of chatter in the crowd.

It was another two minutes and nineteen seconds before Hector finally gave and shouted for one his attendants to help him out. Felix didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the moron was pulled to the surface. He hated himself for looking to the left so he wouldn’t miss Sylvain getting out of the water, dripping wet, but Sylvain was still _in_ the water.

“Ah, you won,” Connal said, teeth chattering even wrapped in a torrent of furs. “You can get out now.”

Sylvain’s expression didn’t shift as he continued to swim in the freezing water. “I’m good.”

“Your lips are blue,” Daria, the girl from the Alliance said.

Sylvain had the fucking nerve to _shrug_ in the water. His lips _were_ blue and another few minutes and his muscles would probably seize up. Fucking stupid fucking—

Felix stomped over first, but Dimitri wasn’t far behind. “Hey,” Sylvain said casually.

“Get the _fuck_ out of the water, you idiot!” Felix snapped, while Dimitri crouched and held his hand out.

“I’m fine,” Sylvain said, waving Dimitri off with a hand that looked two seconds away from frostbite. It also put his hand close enough that Dimitri grabbed it and then dragged him up and out in one move.Sylvain’s eyes widened as he almost fell flat on his face when he tried to steady himself on the ground upon landing.

Felix caught him and resisted the irrational urge to push him back in because he was so pissed off. “You’re going into shock.”

“I won though,” Sylvain said, and Dimitri threw the waiting blankets and furs over him before they bodily dragged him back inside. It took longer than Felix would’ve liked to get to a fireplace. Sylvain looked awful, skin chapped, and icy, all for a stupid fucking—

“I’ll get more blankets and a healer,” Dimitri murmured after setting Sylvain down in front of the fire, and then left.

Sylvain’s eyelashes had frost on them. Felix felt like strangling him, but that wouldn’t accomplish much, so he settled for grabbing Sylvain’s hands and channeling a healing spell he hadn’t needed to use in a while. _Restore_ seemed to at least bring some color back into Sylvain’s skin, but Felix cast _Recover_ for good measure.

Finally Sylvain started to shiver, which was a good sign, Felix dropped his hands to pull the blankets over Sylvain and moved to stoke the fire, poking the wood hard enough to spit sparks at him.

“Can you move everything?” Felix asked. “Toes, fingers?”

Sylvain nodded, staring at him. “Where’d you learn that?”

“My mom’s a healer,” Felix said, dragging out another blanket and practically throwing it at Sylvain. “Asshole. You already won. And it was a stupid fucking contest in the first place.”

“Oh yeah,” Sylvain said, ignoring Felix’s second statement and burrowing into the blankets. “I forgot. She helped me with my broken arm once, I think.”

“What the hell were you even thinking?” Felix asked. “You didn’t even have to do the fucking contest. I told you that!”

Sylvain frowned and turned slightly towards the fire. “If I dropped out, it would’ve proved Charon right.”

“About Sreng being weak?” Felix asked. “Who cares? He’s probably never even been that far north.”

Sylvain let out a deep, loud sigh. “People who are _not_ Felix Fraldarius care,” he said. “Every single fucking move I’ve made since I got back to Faerghus people have cared about.” He scoffed. It sounded angry. “If I look weak, Sreng looks weak. If I look boorish, or unmannered, or uncouth, or _uncivilized_ , then Sreng looks like that too.”

Felix stared at the back of Sylvain’s head, frowning. “Why do you care?” he asked. “Weren’t you basically a war hostage?”

Sylvain’s lips twitched up and then down. “Sreng is like a tree, the rings Fódlan sees are the warriors and people protecting the borders, the rings inside are different. I lived inside.”

Felix took his jacket off and settled next to Sylvain by the fire. Felix nudged him over so that Felix was pressed against Sylvain’s side and ignored the surprise on his face. “Body heat helps, don’t get excited. How are they different?”

“If my balls hadn’t permanently retreated into my body I wouldn’t be able to resist that body heat comment,” Sylvain said.

“How are they different?” Felix repeated.

Sylvain was pretty much a blanketed lump, but Felix thought maybe he was resting his chin on his knees. It was hard to tell. “Skills related to things other than war are appreciated, encouraged even. Everything inside Sreng is different than Fódlan. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t have crests or not, but the people who took me in didn’t care that I was a Gautier, they cared what I could show them I could do. I didn’t have expectations, I had… goals.”

He glanced sideways at Felix. “I’m not saying it’s perfect. I don’t even know if it’s _better_ , but I do know the people who raised me are good people and I don’t really feel like messing up what little I can do to repay them by coming back.”

“Freezing off your extremities for a pissing contest seems like a shit way to pay them back,” Felix pointed out.

“Yes, well,” Sylvain lifted his chin up. “Even I have limits of putting up with assholes, Felix.” He breathed out through his nose, glaring at the fire.

Felix frowned. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t place it. It was like an itch in a spot he couldn’t reach. “Did you even want to come back?” Felix asked him.

Sylvain seemed to deflate beneath the blankets, he looked sideways at Felix again. “Sort of. I missed… people I cared about here. I didn’t really want to get dragged back because my piece of shit brother finally got disinherited and they were down an heir.”

“Would you go back if you could?” Felix asked.

Sylvain stared at him and then said, “I don’t know. I could do a lot of good for the border if I actually managed to become seen as a legitimate heir of Gautier. A decade of bullshit here might mean centuries of peace at home.”

Felix thought that over while he stoked the fire again, a little less aggressively this time. When he settled back next to Sylvain, there was a strange expression on Sylvain’s face.

“What?” Felix asked.

“This is… the longest you’ve talked to me since I got here, did I just have to almost freeze to death to get your attention? Because I could’ve done that in Gautier.”

Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “This is the longest you’ve gone without a stupid line or trying to remind me of what an _emotional_ kid I was.”

“Why don’t you like being reminded of it?” Sylvain asked.

Felix shrugged and stared at the fire. “Probably for the same reason you almost froze your dick off to prove a point. Faerghus doesn’t like fragile things.”

“You weren’t fragile,” Sylvain said, when Felix went to look at him, Sylvain’s gaze was too earnest and intense so Felix turned back to the fire. “You were honest, just, you know less angry about it. No self-flagellation for having a feeling.”

Felix didn’t really know how to respond to that. He glanced briefly at Sylvain again and then away. “Are Srengi people really—” he tried to remember the phrase the Margrave had used, “—that _forthright_ in their affection?”

Sylvain laughed softly. “No. Eeija would’ve kicked my ass if she found out I’d tried that.”

Felix must’ve been too close to the fire, because he was starting to feel warm. “Eeija?”

“My—” Sylvain started, but was cut off as Dimitri and probably every blanket in the entire castle entered the room.

“Are you feeling better?” Dimitri asked from behind eight thousand blankets.

“Yeah,” Sylvain said. “Felix took care of me.”

“I brought hot tea!” Annette said, following shortly behind Dimitri, carrying a tray of different teas. Felix didn’t get to his feet in time before what he knew would happen happened and Annette tripped and dropped the entire tray on the floor. “Crap!”

Sylvain did a terrible job smothering his laughter in the pile of blankets while Felix and Dimitri consoled Annette. The healer Dimitri summoned came by shortly after that and they left Sylvain there to be berated by someone else for being a stubborn fool. Felix walked back to his room, not paying much mind to Dimitri and Annette’s conversation about the swim and what Sylvain must have been thinking and everything else surrounding it.

Felix’s room was quiet and dark. He lit a candle and frowned at the floor. His brain chased a thought too far off from him to catch. Sylvain had sounded _different_ when he wasn’t putting up a front, but it wasn’t only different, it was familiar…

Was that how he talked when they were kids? Felix thought about the shape of Sylvain’s mouth when he laughed softly and the warm curl in Felix’s stomach afterwards. 

Felix looked, automatically, towards the windowsill for a letter, but there wasn’t one. He was suddenly surrounded by the feeling of his muscles stiffening, like he was going into shock, surrounded by the icy waters of the Loog Blessed Swim.

Sylvain was Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annette makes 500 gold on her bet that Hector would lose. She spends a third of it on replacing teacups.
> 
> (There is now art of the Sylvain Ice Cream Dip scene and ... I cannot blame Felix for staring [go look!](https://twitter.com/seofim/status/1287527647120064515?s=20)
> 
> There is also art of the pining fireplace scene [please check it out](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1288021199579054080?s=20)!)


	5. Will we ever know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Felix thinks he might know the truth, he has to figure out what to do about it.
> 
> (or, felix needs time to process emotions)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, thanks! The comments and support have been frankly overwhelming. I'm not sure how I wrote this much in this short of a time, but I appreciate everyone who read and enjoyed it. I'm @waffle-fancy on twitter. 
> 
> Also the art, is amazing. Please see: [[Chapter 1](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1284343332127170562?s=20)][[Chapter 2](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1285091993396240384?s=20)][[Chapter 3](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1286445404649742336?s=20)][[Chapter 4](https://twitter.com/seofim/status/1287527647120064515?s=20)][[Chapter 4](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1288021199579054080?s=20)]

Felix barely slept, but he must have at some point, because when he woke up there was a letter on his windowsill.

He stared at it for longer than he wanted to and then snatched it from the window, ripping it open with less care than he usually did.

_‘I looked up the origin of some of the Founding Day traditions. Most of them seem a little far-fetched. Loog Blessed Swim was apparently his way of purifying himself before battle. Purifying himself of what it didn’t say, but I suppose it worked since he won and there_ _is_ _a Founding Day._

_One of them was pretty interesting. The Founding Day Feast. It was established about 90 years ago. The red wolves were terrorizing all the local villages and the current rulers drew everyone inside the city gates. None of the villagers had brought food with them (or probably anything, running from a giant pack of red wolves seems like it wouldn’t give you time to pack) so they were starving and it was winter. They kept causing ‘trouble’ in the city because of those pesky needs like food and shelter, so most of the people wanted them kicked back outside._

_There was a guy (the book didn’t name him) who pointed out that the castle was overflowing with food and there were plenty of places that could be made up to sleep. So he suggested to the King and Queen that they share their space and resources so that everyone could survive the winter._

_They did and the villagers survived the winter. Faerghus has been doing it every year since, even if they don’t have refugees in the city gates._

_I’m sorry if that was boring. I was surprised that there was a tradition origin that didn’t mention a famous Crest-bearing nobleman cutting through enemies with his lance and needed to share.’_

Felix stared at the paper, wiling it to make more sense than a random anecdote about Faerghus history, but he couldn’t exactly expect it to say, ‘Sorry I lied and made you feel like a fool, Felix.’ Had Sylvain written this before the challenge or after? Had he written it because of the challenge and if so why? What exactly was he getting at with the feast thing?

With moderate annoyance, Felix took the rest of the letters he’d been storing and dumped them on his bed. He spent the next half hour going through them, comparing details and handwriting. Rereading them reminded himself of how much he’d liked reading them the first (and second and third) time. He wondered if maybe there was a chance it wasn’t true.

Felix had to confirm it. He didn’t want to make even more of a fool of himself than apparently he already had. Felix stared at the pile of papers. He hadn’t written this much since Glenn left home and even then they weren’t… like this.

The yellow flower had wilted at some point, Felix found it as he was picking the letters back up. He stared at it, ignored the twist in his chest and then shoved it with the letters back in the drawer.

Maybe he could invite Fox to come to his room. It was going to be dark tonight with the new moon and then he could… light a candle to see his face or call him Sylvain and see how he reacted? Felix rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair before grunting and getting dressed. He wrote back a perfunctory response and then shoved it out the window before slamming it shut.

Felix wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed, angry, or heartbroken, so mostly he felt sick.

Breakfast service in the Grand Hall was more crowded than days previous, the roads clearing up meant there were more visitors coming in. It also meant Felix could go home if he wanted to.

He grabbed a plate of food he didn’t feel like eating and sat down at a random table. It, of course, put him in full view of the flock of admirers fawning around Sylvain across the room. Either his winning yesterday or the full view of what he looked like under his clothes had made him very popular this morning. Probably both.

The image of Sylvain before he got into the water flashed through Felix’s head unprompted and he stabbed his fork into a sausage.

“Why do you have murder eyes?” Annette asked, setting down her own plate and taking a seat next to him.

Felix drew his gaze away from Sylvain’s fan club and back to his plate. He still didn’t have an appetite. “I’m thinking about fake people.”

“The worst,” Annette agreed. “Did you get any more letters?”

Felix turned to Annette who was making a smiley face on her flapjacks out of azure berries and bacon. He replied with a noncommittal, “Mhm.”

“It’s so romantic,” Annette said with a sigh. Then she made her bacon into a frown and was practically pouting when she looked up at him. “I _don’t_ like the star-crossed part. Tragic endings are the worst. He should come up to your balcony and whisk you away or something.”

“I don’t have a balcony,” Felix said. “Besides… maybe he’s not who he said he was.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix resisted glancing back across the room. “Maybe he’s not a commoner who…” Actually liked him. “…wants to keep things private.”

Annette’s brow furrowed and she took a bite of her bacon frown. “What would he get by pretending?”

“I… don’t know,” Felix said. “It’s not like people don’t pretend to be something they’re not all the time.” He gestured towards the general direction of Sylvain and his hangers-on without actually looking that way.

“Not everyone pretends,” Annette said. Her nose crinkled at whatever she was looking at. “Sheesh. None of those girls even talked to him before yesterday.” She shook her head and gave a good natured smile. “Maybe they didn’t notice him before. There _are_ a lot of people here.”

“They would have noticed,” Felix said, he pushed his food around on his plate and then made the mistake of looking up from it. Sylvain was saying something with an easy (fake) smile and Felix could see the girls around him laughing from here. One of them used the excuse to touch his arm.

“Enough about Sylvain,” Annette said and when Felix turned back to look at her she was beaming at him. “We should be focusing on Fox and your mystery romance!”

“I’d rather focus on literally anything else,” Felix said.

Annette was on the verge of an actual pout, but he was too much in his own head to be susceptible to it. Felix asked about how Mercedes was and thankfully Annette was happy to cheerfully go along with his subject change.

She’d only gotten to telling Felix about some recipe Mercedes’s mom made when someone sat down across from them. Felix knew, because his fucking luck, without looking up who it was going to be. He looked up anyway.

Sylvain grinned broadly at him. _He_ clearly hadn’t lost any sleep last night. “I can’t believe jumping into ice water is what impresses everyone around here. I could have saved myself at least a week of small talk if I’d known that was the standard reintroduction technique.”

Felix stood up from the table. “I’m going to—train,” he said stiffly. Then he turned and walked away, ignoring Annette’s “but you didn’t eat anything!”

* * *

Training didn’t clear Felix’s head. He worked up enough of a sweat that usually would’ve made him feel better, but all he could think about was how naive he’d been to actually believe that someone would like him that much. Clearly this was _funny_ to Sylvain. Felix couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d keep up a charade and to even go as far as making it seem like it was a class difference and not…

Felix couldn’t focus. He wasn’t going to be able to focus until he was absolutely sure. He would confront it and be done with it. It was like ripping a bandage off or removing a knife from a wound. It would hurt and then it would get better and he could go on with his life.

Or he could forget all of this and go home and never see Sylvain or Fox again. He’d never need to know how hopeless he’d been. It was tempting enough that he went from the training yard straight to his room.

But Felix didn’t like backing down from a fight. He'd shown enough weakness already. He turned away from his door and walked to the next one over. Felix knocked on Sylvain’s door, his breath unsteady as he waited. Then the door swung open.

Sylvain looked surprised. “Uh, hi. Did you get good fighting in?”

“Can I come in?” Felix asked. He stared at the underside of Sylvain’s chin and tried to remember the exact shape that had been under the mask. He’d seen Fox’s (Sylvain’s) face once, but it had been in bad lighting and Felix wasn’t really prone to focus on facial details or even make eye contact.

“Sure,” Sylvain said, opening the door wider.

Felix stepped in and looked around. He didn’t see an inkwell with familiar paper, a pile of his own letters, or a mask lying around, but he wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

“Is everything okay?” Sylvain asked, closing the door behind him.

Felix turned around and looked up at him. He hesitated. This wasn’t like a fight where he knew how to read people. He wasn’t judging forms and guessing at their next stance. He wasn’t even dealing with annoying nobles hitting on him. Felix clearly didn’t know how to read Sylvain at all.“I want to talk.”

The ease that slid on Sylvain’s face was quick, but Felix couldn’t trust himself to believe it was sincere. “Yeah, sure. I know we got interrupted last night.” He walked past Felix without touching him and then sat down on his bed. The slight curve of his smile was familiar, but still Felix wasn’t sure. “Don’t worry the palace healer gave me even more shit than you did about almost becoming a Sylvainsicle.”

“That’s not what I…” Felix started, but then couldn’t finish. He needed to confront Sylvain and ask him directly, but he couldn’t _say_ it. Felix was going to humiliate himself if he was wrong and if he was right all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

Felix couldn’t trust that he’d recognize a face he’d seen part of, or a voice he’d heard twice. No matter how often he’d thought of it. He’d never backed down from a fight before and he didn’t want to start now. He was going to get it over with and ask Sylvain to tell him the truth.

That was what he’d planned on doing, but staring at Sylvain’s mouth, Felix knew there was one thing he would absolutely know was the same between Fox and Sylvain.

So Felix said, “Kiss me.”

Before Felix had a chance to register how stupid that was, Sylvain had surged up from his seat on the bed and was already kissing him. Felix had to grab Sylvain’s shoulders to stay upright as Sylvain rose to standing, never breaking contact with his lips. This wasn’t like the kiss at the stables. It wasn’t even like it had been at the masquerade in the gardens.

The kiss was bruising and perfect and Felix made a small terrible noise in response. His mouth barely opened on the noise before Sylvain was exploring it with his own. Felix suddenly didn’t feel like his legs were going to keep holding him up, but then strong warm hands spanned the small of his back and drew him in closer.

The closeness, feel, and taste were imprinted in Felix’s memory. He was absolutely certain now that he was kissing the same person he’d kissed every other time. Felix brought his hand to Sylvain’s chest to push him back. He wanted to push him back. He tried to push him back.

Instead, Sylvain’s fingers danced along the base of Felix’s skull and another breathy useless noise escaped him. He was overwhelmed by the sensation of one hand on his neck and another against the small of his back. So Felix gripped Sylvain’s shirt with both hands and pulled instead of pushed.

Felix hadn’t eaten all day. He’d been training. He was dizzy. He was incapable of having a rational thought beyond the feel of lips against his own and the soft graze of teeth that caused his breath to hitch and his back to arch.

Sylvain smelled like pine needles and soap. Felix bit Sylvain’s lower lip and tasted nothing, but felt the rumble-like wave when Sylvain responded with a sound that might have been a chuckle. It was all the warning Felix got before the hand on his back moved and Sylvain picked him up with one arm.

Felix didn’t even feel like he needed to steady himself as Sylvain carried him over to the bed and deposited him there. He took the moment to try and catch his breath (and his sanity), but only had a second before Sylvain was on him again and sanity seemed overrated.

Warmth spread from every inch of Felix’s skin as Sylvain’s hands moved all over him, almost like they were mapping him by feel. Felix was starting to think breathing was unnecessary too when Sylvain pulled back from his mouth, only to softly press his lips to Felix’s jaw.

“Fe _lix_ ,” Sylvain breathed against him, warm air brushing against the shell of Felix’s ear before his lips pressed there too. The sounds Felix made in response were _awful_. He silenced himself by grabbing both sides of Sylvain’s face and tugging him up until Sylvain was swallowing any further noises with his mouth.

Half of Felix’s shirt was off and Sylvain’s hand underneath the rest of it when the blood finally returned from Felix’s dick to his brain.

“Get off,” Felix said, but the effect was ruined with how breathless it sounded.

“I’m getting there,” Sylvain murmured against Felix’s skin.

There was a not unpleasant shiver that ran down Felix’s spine in response, but it wasn’t enough to deter him. Felix said, “No, get off of _me_!” a little more forcefully, and emphasized it by actually pushing at Sylvain’s chest this time.

Sylvain rolled off him. He looked confused. Confusion. That was rich. What the fuck?

Felix’s face felt somehow hotter than the rest of his body which felt like it was going to spontaneously burst into flames. Sylvain’s hand reached out towards him and Felix stood up and off the bed before it could reach him.

“Was that too fast?” Sylvain asked. “I… you didn’t seem to be complaining but we could slow down.”

“Who’s we?” Felix asked harshly, mostly angry at himself. “You and me, or you and the made up commoner you pretended to be to get me to like you?”

“Oh,” Sylvain said and winced. “That’s… I didn’t mean… fuck…”

Felix had done nothing to avoid being humiliated, if anything he’d fucking helped it along. “What is this?” Felix asked. “Why would you even—” But Felix knew why. His shirt was untucked from his pants because why. It wasn’t _new_ , just no one had ever gotten this far. He ignored the angry sting in his eyes. “You wanted to assimilate to Faerghus and prove yourself. Getting the _difficult_ Fraldarius in bed is sure a fucking easy way to do it. Congratulations. You’re like everyone else. You’re just better at it.”

There was a weight sitting on Felix’s chest and he turned to leave the room to get out of from under it. He couldn’t even go back to his own room, because it was too close. He couldn’t stay for another second. He was going to find the nearest horse, carriage, or even a fucking pegasus and go home and out of this nightmare.

When he made it outside it was snowing again. Felix let out a dry laugh and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Fuck,” he said. It figured.

“Felix!” Sylvain’s voice called from behind him.

Felix took that as a cue to keep moving. There had to be _someone_ going to Fraldarius before the snow got too strong.

“Felix,” Sylvain said, closer now. “You—you’re not even wearing a damn jacket, would you please stop? Come back inside and let me explain.”

Felix did stop. He felt angry at someone other than himself, which was better than anything else he’d been feeling and so he turned around. Sylvain took a step closer and Felix stepped back. “Explain what? That you thought it was funny to get me to write out deeply personal shit I haven’t told anyone else? Or think that you… _you_ were someone else?”

“No!” Sylvain said. “That’s not it at all. I… can I at least give you my coat, you’ve got to be freezing, Felix.”

Felix crossed his arms across his chest and glared at him. “If that’s not it, what was it?”

“I… wanted to spend time with you,” Sylvain said, wincing even at his own words. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have written that letter.”

“Which one?” Felix asked, hating the crack in his voice.

“The first one,” Sylvain said. “Probably the others weren’t a great idea either, but I don’t… you asked to talk and I wanted to talk and you weren’t talking to _me_ , so I thought…” He shrugged helplessly. “It’s easier to write it down. I’m clearly not good at talking.”

“You seem to do well enough to put on the act for everyone else,” Felix said. He’d thought he could see through it, but he was as brainless as every fawning twit who bought into fake smiles and hollow gestures.

“It’s not an act,” Sylvain said. His hands lifted and then dropped to his sides. “I have no idea why you liked me as not me, but every time I tried to talk to you as me, I kept… fucking it up.”

“Why do you even _care_ that you were fucking it up?” Felix asked, tightening his arms and biting his teeth against the chill.

“Because I love you!”

Felix stared at Sylvain, feeling frozen in place. He took a short, shaky breath. “Fuck you, you lying ass. You’ve known me a month.”

Sylvain had seemed startled by his own words spilling out, but now his face was serious, like it had been right before the swim. “No,” Sylvain said. “I’ve loved you longer. I know you don’t remember,” he added, gently, like he was calming a horse (which was a good metaphor because if came any closer Felix would absolutely fucking bite him), “but we were really close when we were kids and when I went to Sreng, I _missed_ you.”

Sylvain’s bleary brown eyes seemed darker, sharper as he went on. “I was scared and missed a lot of stuff from home, but mostly Felix, I missed you. That didn’t stop. That never stopped. I didn’t really know what it was, but then I went to that stupid mask ball and you were there and… I…”

Felix swallowed around the sphere of ice in his throat. “If that’s true why didn’t you just tell me who you were at the ball?”

“I wasn’t officially there as me and I wanted to check things out as an observer before getting thrown into the lion’s den so to speak.” Sylvain breathed out a puff of air and rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t _plan_ to kiss you, but you asked and…” He gave another helpless shrug.

Felix frowned. That didn’t—none of this made any sense. “Then why the fuck didn’t you tell me after?”

Sylvain lifted a finger, opened his mouth and immediately closed it. Then he said, “You kneed me?”

“In the carriage,” Felix said. “After the carriage. When we got to Fhirdiad. In the fucking stables!”

Sylvain’s mouth twisted. “I… didn’t want you to hate me?”

Felix didn’t. Even if he wished he did. He breathed out, trying for steady and failing. “Was _any_ of it real?”

The look Sylvain gave him made Felix’s stomach twist.

“All of it,” Sylvain said. He took a slow step forward and then when Felix didn’t take a step back, he took another and again, until there were inches between them. “I know you’re not exactly the same person you were when we were kids,” he said, his voice soft again, like it had been each time Felix thought he was Fox and yesterday in front of the fire.

“But it’s all still there. You’re honest to a fault. You still care, you just…” Sylvain’s lips twitched, “yell and swear about it. And I like the new stuff I’ve learned so far,” he added. “I want to know you longer than a month, but it’s not going to change how I feel.” He scoffed a laugh. “If anything, this has proven it’s only going to make me feel it more.”

How he felt… Felix tightened his arms around himself again. It was cold enough outside and Sylvain was close enough he could feel the heat radiating off of him. Was that from growing up in Sreng or had he always been like that? “Are _you_ going to freeze if I take your coat?” Felix asked.

Sylvain’s eyebrows raised and he shook his head. He shrugged his coat off and put it around Felix’s shoulders, his fingers lingering on Felix’s arms before he pulled back, leaving a small gap of space between them again.

The coat was warm and smelled like him. Felix shut his eyes for a second, trying to remember what Sylvain looked like when he’d said _it_. Sylvain’s mouth had almost fallen open of its own accord and he seemed surprised, sincere even, but Felix didn’t trust he could tell anymore.

Felix opened his eyes and pursed his lips. “What kind of weapon do you fight with normally?”

Sylvain seemed thrown for a second, but answered, “A lance?” Then he tilted his head consideringly. “Sometimes a halberd, but that’s better when you’re mounted and war camels aren’t really a thing.”

“Are lances different in Sreng?” Felix asked.

Sylvain’s mouth twisted. “A little? I think. For as wild as the Faerghus traditions have been, I haven’t actually seen much combat, but mine usually has a hook and snare.” That would probably make it weigh more and matched Felix’s assumption that Sylvain had been adjusting to a different balance when he was sparring.

Felix uncrossed his arms and tugged Sylvain’s coat further around his shoulders. He tried to think about that first night as if it had been the Sylvain he thought he knew and not a mysterious stranger. “You haven’t seen any ice field wrestling pits yet?”

Sylvain laughed, softly and fond. “No, not yet.”

The weight on Felix’s chest seemed to have settled into his stomach. It felt both heavier and lighter when he watched Sylvain’s expression shift to more unreserved and open; soft, even sincere. He felt…

Felix ran his tongue over his lips. “I’ve… I haven’t been in love before, so I don’t know if that’s what this is.”

“That’s okay,” Sylvain said, too quickly. Felix wasn’t sure if his eyes were eager or hopeful, but either way Felix had to turn away from them.

For the first time, Felix _wished_ he remembered Sylvain. It might’ve made it easier to figure any of this out. He hated feeling vulnerable and he certainly didn’t feel _less_ vulnerable now than he had before, but Sylvain (as Sylvain) had said he liked him even when he was fragile and emotional. That felt like something, even if Felix wasn’t sure what that something was.

He took a step closer and leaned his head against Sylvain’s chest. In response Sylvain wrapped his arms around him, breathing out like he’d been holding it in. It felt almost like the hug in the stables.

“How did you even think pretending to be two people was going to work out?” Felix asked, slightly muffled against Sylvain’s collar.

Sylvain’s voice reverberated out of his chest and into a quiet huff against Felix’s temple. “I think it’s fairly obvious, Felix, that no thinking has been involved in _any_ of the decisions I’ve made in regards to you.”

The snow was falling a little heavier now. Felix hadn’t even noticed. He was too busy being warmed and trying to put the pieces of Fox and Sylvain into the same place.

There was a light layer of snow in Sylvain’s hair and small flakes of ice peppering his lashes, when Felix glanced up. “You can kiss me again, if you want.”

Sylvain’s real smile made Felix’s heart skip. “What if I always want?”

Felix’s face felt warmer than the rest of him again. “Then don’t waste time asking to.”

Sylvain’s smile stretched his face even further as he bent down. Sylvain’s forehead touched Felix’s, and then his nose brushed against Felix’s own. “See? _Trouble_.”

Felix hid his own smile against Sylvain’s as they kissed while it continued to snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> later, annette has to pay up to dimitri (with baked goods) because he'd called it two days ago
> 
> (there is now art of the last scene, it's so pretty T_T [go look](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1288648705176793088)!)


End file.
